


Omega

by LunaMax1214, mitisvenatrix



Series: Teandraverse [2]
Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Dark, F/M, Feelings Realization, Teandraverse, Vigilante, between games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-03-06
Updated: 2010-03-06
Packaged: 2018-09-16 01:18:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 27,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9267347
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LunaMax1214/pseuds/LunaMax1214, https://archiveofourown.org/users/mitisvenatrix/pseuds/mitisvenatrix
Summary: This is the story of a detective turned vigilante, and the woman who inspired him to right the galaxies' wrongs. Tells of the Archangel's fall on Omega, into the darkness and Teandra's arms... Set between Mass Effect 1 & 2.





	1. Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> Garrus is so much darker of a character in Mass Effect 2 than in his first adventure with Shepard, and since Bioware saw fit to leave his development to our imagination, I obliged. On a technical note, this story was planned as a sort of sequal to Partners, Comrades, Friends; Teandra is a paragon/earthborn/survivor, and she and Garrus have a relationship full of banter and comradarie, with a hint at some further attraction. A hint they both choose to ignore to save the friendship that means so much to them. Also, Teandra "romances" (I use the term VERY loosely) Kaiden and the Council survives the reapers in Mass Effect 1.

_"By superhuman effort, you can avoid slipping backwards for a while. But one day, you'll lose a step, or drop a beat, or miss a detail... and you'll be gone forever."_

_\- Oblivion_

**Chapter 1- Alpha**

She was right. She was always right.

Staring at the document in front of me, I reveled in the pride it incited, a heady mixture of relief and triumph. Reading over the page again, I savored every line as if it were some flavorful turian wine to be enjoyed in sips:

_Mr. Vakarian,_

_It is with great pleasure that we inform you your reapplication for consideration has been approved. Your service record and recent actions both lead us to believe that you would make a valuable asset to the Spectre Service. A representative of the council will contact you shortly to arrange an observation of your skills before your status can be fully initiated by the Council. That said we look forward to working with you Mr. Vakarian._

It was signed personally, much to my surprise, by Councilor Sparatus himself.

I had never stopped to consider what the galaxy's view of the _Normandy_ and her heroism would mean for me personally. The reality was that doors, and possibilities, opened up where none had been before. My continued existence no longer depended on the needs and demands of others. I was mercifully free to decide my own fate…my own destiny.

Reapplying for Spectre status was one of the best decisions I had ever made. Leave it to Teandra Shepard to pull that out of me, to discover a piece of my soul that had been missing. The opportunity had always been my " _What if?"…_ , the turning point in my life where it became apparent that my father's hopes and dreams were more important than my own. I had wanted this, _needed_ this, deserved it for all the years spent at someone else's beck and call.

The decision had not been easy, though. Leaving the _Normandy_ 's crew, and one particularly headstrong female commander, was a decision not to be made lightly. She had encouraged me in casual conversation, but I wondered if our close camaraderie would hinder her ability to let me go.

* * *

 _She walks into the galley, armor conspicuously missing but boots insistently clicking with her immediate need for food. Her auburn hair swings as she walks, head down and focused on a datapad. The Reapers may be defeated for now, but the_ Normandy _still has missions to run. Most of these are diplomatic in nature, showing off the multi-racial crew working under the hero of the galaxy herself. The council's recruitment efforts at their best; we are all just glad to be alive._

_I gulp down the synthesized food. It's early, and I know Shepard and I won't have to worry about anyone else being up for another half hour or so. I have timed this in order to speak to her alone, hoping she'll understand why I need to do this._

_"_ _Commander, may I speak with you?" I ask, deciding if she tells me she's busy I'll let the whole damn crazy idea go. She looks up, smiling a playful smile. Since Virmire, very few get that version of it, the one untouched by the sorrow of losing one of her crew._

" _Of course, Garrus." She takes a seat opposite my own, putting down the datapad with a sigh of exasperation, "I'm not sure what time schedule the Council thinks we're on, exactly… Earth days only have 24 hours. There isn't enough time in the galaxy to be everywhere they want us to be at once."_

_I chuckle appreciatively, commenting, "I told you to let the Reapers take them out. If you'd listened to me you could be calmly relaxing on some beach somewhere."_

" _I could always try Palaven, eh? Diplomatic relations in a bikini…_ _ **I**_ _like the idea, at least. Udina would have kittens, though." The human saying isn't lost on me. Our friendly, somewhat flirtatious banter has exposed me to many phrases that even my detective work, and my former partner, have never revealed. By the damn spirits, I was going to miss her. Friendships like ours are a once in a lifetime occurence._

" _Commander," I say a little more forcefully, trying to stick to my decision before I lose my nerve," remember when we talked about what I would do after we took out Saren? What I suggested?"_

_I can see her brain processing the question, the conversation retrieved from the catalogue of her mind. Wishing I couldn't read her quite so well, I see her face harden minutely, a sure sign she is hiding something. Logically, I know she will probably assume I am leaving to get away from her, hurt because of that Citadel party. That isn't the case at all. Being away from C-Sec has shown me that I need a chance to choose my own path..._

" _Back to C-Sec, Garrus? Bored with us already?" She sighs heavily, but still smiles at me in spite of her obvious distress, "I figured it was only a matter of time, actually. Wrex is already gone, and Tali won't be far behind. At least your father will be pleased…" She trails off, noticing she is rambling on and cutting the train of thought short, unsure of what to say. I snort good-naturedly._

" _I'll never work for C-Sec again, little Spectre. Trust me. I was actually considering following in your own footsteps…" Her eyes widen slightly as the realization of what I am saying dawns on her. "Of course, finding a hot, turian woman who can be my second-in-command **and** snipe may be a difficult, but you found me, so…"_

 _She punches me from across the table good naturedly, saying. "Vakarian, you're impossible. I'm gonna miss your smart ass… guess Joker will_ just _have to work overtime."_

_Her words register. "I can go? I can give it a shot?"_

" _Garrus, I'm your commanding officer, not you're dad." She laughs, "Ooooh, he's gonna loooove this," the evil glint to her eyes is hilarious, especially considering the only thing he's ever done around her is insult me. Then she sobers, cerulean eyes training on me as if to convey the seriousness of her words._

" _Vakarian… Garrus… You know I'll miss you. Your practical jokes on Tali… Our sparring matches and sniper battles… your idiotic self-centered arrogance…"_

_I look at her ._

" _Okay,_ _ **intelligent**_ _self-centered arrogance." She laughs as I cross my arms, a tic I have picked up from her, a sure sign of irritation._

" _Go live your dreams, Garrus. And if you find it's not for you, I'll always be here." Her words are an echo of my own, spoken a thousand times._

_She stands, as if determined to take action before one of us changes our mind. "Joker?"_

" _Yes, Commander."_

" _Make for the Citadel…"_

* * *

My memories were interrupted by a chime at my door. _A visitor_? Few people even knew I had secured a residence on the Citadel yet. The _Normandy_ and her crew had been gone less than two weeks, and the repairs from the Battle of the Citadel a month before are still ongoing. As such, I'd found myself loathe to reestablish my contacts until I knew my stay wasn't just some fantasy in my head.

"Come in," I called, relying on the automated door system to open itself as I stood, shoulder plates twitching in minute protest at the extended time at the monitor. A face I would have never expected in a million years appeared through my doorway, in spite of his close relationship to Teandra.

"Anderson?" I'd only met him once or twice. I'd heard many stories from Shepard about him, though, since he'd recruited her for the alliance at the age of sixteen. It had taken her explaining that humans didn't usually enlist until they were older for this to even seem unusual to me. She had always given me the impression that the process had involved many waivers, as well as a few half truths. Any irregularities that were actually noticed wound up in front of Anderson, and disappeared. After all, he was a war hero, and that gave his word the ability to make things happen. Much like Shepard's own influence, nowadays.

"Officer Vakarian, I'm not very good at this kind of thing, so I'll get straight to the point." _Breathing heavy, heart rate irregular_ my eyepiece said. His shoulders were slumped as if in defeat, his face fallen into a display of indescribable sorrow. "The _Normandy_ was attacked at 0800 this morning. The crew escaped with minimal losses," his voice hitched on the word _minimal_.

"Teandra?" My voice was monotone, not registering the information fully yet.

"She managed to get almost everyone onto an escape shuttle, but Officer Moreau refused to leave the cockpit. She went back for him and got him into a pod, but… She's gone, Vakarian. I thought you'd like to hear it in person… I know how close you two were." I nodded my assent, barely hearing.

I just managed to get him out the door before my world crumbled.


	2. Decisions

_"Bury all your secrets in my skin_

_Come away with innocence and leave me with my sins_

_The air around me still feels like a cage_

_And love is just a camouflage for what resembles rage again"_

_"Snuf" -_ Slipknot

**Chapter 2- Decisions**

Garbled words and pictures assault my consciousness, connected only by the ever dwindling thread of my sanity…

**I should have been there… it should have been me.**

_She sits across from me, laughing delightedly as I say the words "Checkmate" for the first time. "Won't be spotting you a piece anymore, Vakarian," she comments dryly._

**I was stupid, selfish. My place was at her side.**

_Our rifles crack in unison, a single bullet hole sprouting from the turian's carapace. Our shots had entered in exactly the same spot…_

**She needed me, more than anyone else in the galaxy.**

_My arms encircle her as she overcomes the traumas of her childhood, secure if only for the moment in the knowledge that I would always protect her. I am buried in the scent of ylang-ylang._

**She'd saved me from complacency, given me myself**.

_We're both doubled over in helpless laughter, Tali's body language irate as she shakes her reprogrammed omni-tool at me in disgust. "It will take me days to fix this, Garrus," she says indignantly. But Teandra and I still can't stop, the chuckles beginning anew each time we catch each others eyes._

**She was gone… oh spirits, she was gone**.

 _I'll always be here, Garrus_.

Those words… something about those words brought me back from the brink… reminded me of who I was… _her voice, "Garrus."_

"I'm here, little Spectre, I'm here."

* * *

"By the all the Damn Spirit of the Hierarchy, Pallin, did they at least _search?_ " The exasperated look he gave me reminded me _forcefully_ of why I had left C-Sec in the first place.

"Vakarian, this is you're last warning. I've told you all I know." He rubbed his hands across his skull plate, an indication of irritation. "An extensive search was manned. The nearby planet was combed, any relevant salvage was retrieved. There was nothing to find, and the Council has ordered the search closed and funeral rites planned. You're letting your emotions get the better of you."

" _I am not emotional._ You're the one so stuck on procedure. Wasn't _procedure_ followed? There _had_ to be something." I probably should have been calmer, considering Pallin's own personal problems following the Battle of the Citadel. The Hierarchy blamed him for the slip in security, and he had been summarily replaced by a new Executor. Chellik was a good investigator, and didn't play politics unless he had to, but it also meant Pallin had only slightly more information than I did about the attack on the _Normandy_. It made me angrier than I had ever been in my life, unable to gain any good information, since it was all being highly classified.

_Damn good being seen as a hero does me now._

"I entertained this little interview because of my respect for Castis, and our history together, but you need to maintain a disciplinary bearing. Why is this so important to you?" There was no answer I could give him. No answer for myself other than, _"Because it's Teandra."_ But I couldn't say that aloud, not without giving everyone ideas I didn't want tainting her memory.

His face hardened at my hesitation, and he jumped to the very conclusion I so desperately wanted to avoid. "Were you _screwing_ her, Vakarian? Because fraternization rules won't even come close to what your father will have to say…"

The words were interrupted by a well delivered fist to the mandibles, knocking him to the floor. "Don't you _dare_ dishonor her memory that way Pallin… I'm done. I'm off this station." The fact that his assumptions had very nearly been true didn't change the fact that they weren't. If she was gone, truly gone, I was not going to have my friendship be something that kept her from getting the full honors she deserved. It was a last gift I could give her.

Stalking towards the doorway, I heard muted laughter from the floor. Turning, I watched him struggle to speak through the blue blood filling his mouth, "Ever the failure, Vakarian. You ran away from C-Sec because you couldn't handle it, and now you'll throw your Spectre application away… And for what? Some dead, human woman who did nothing but disgrace the Spectre **name**..." His words rang on nothingness, my footsteps already carrying me out of his office.

I blindly made my way towards my apartment, not really registering the people and buildings around me. My mind already on my departure, figuring out what I would want to keep, and what would need to be sold before leaving the Citadel. I couldn't stay here, knowing that being on the _Normandy_ might have made the difference in her living or dying, that maybe I could have saved her. As if to make things worse, Pallin's words about Teandra's and my relationship burned into my brain…

Why did everyone assume they knew what existed when it came to her and I? _Platonic:_ Safe, comfortable, dependable. We backed each other up, gave each other support, even outside the battlefield. Pallin hadn't been the first to assume the worst, only the most vocal about it. _Friends:_ It seemed at times she and I were the only ones who knew the meaning of the phrase, some days. Now that she was gone...

The Citadel was stifling. I had to get away before I killed someone.

_Fraternization rules won't even come close to what your father will have to say..._

But first, I guess there was one more obstacle I'd have to overcome.


	3. Confrontation

_"You will make my strengths your own. You will see my life through your eyes, as your life will be seen through mine. The son becomes the father and the father becomes the son."_

Superman Returns

**Chapter 3- Confrontation**

My footsteps faltered, as if to give me one last chance to consider the insanity of what I was about to do. The beauty of the Citadel (in spite of ongoing repairs) was lost on me as I made my way towards the Palazar Hotel on the other side of the Presidium, where the object of my dread had secured a suite in order to attend one of his "Encouragement of the New Recruits" missions.

Both nemesis and role-model, father and stranger, Castis Vakarian was as well-respected as any turian could ever be. He had served faultlessly as an Investigative General Officer for almost his full fifteen years of military service, having been promoted at a young age because of stellar performance in legal matters. Staff Sergeant Vakarian was particularly good at finding those who went AWOL, mostly due to his uncanny ability to see what other detectives missed.

It was like a second sight, this talent of his, and he'd passed it on to me. Just about the only thing I would ever likely thank him for, but never out loud.

Like many of the skills he'd honed and acquired during his service, he carried it into his civilian career, where it also served him well. Almost overnight, he became the youngest Executor in Citadel history, solving countless crimes and keeping the peace for nearly thirty years before retiring back to Palaven with full honors. There, he ran the Vakarian clan, politically speaking, and had his talons in any number of arenas.

And every few months, he would make a trip back to the Citadel to welcome the new C-Sec recruits and offer advice on how to best further their career with the skills they possessed.

And not once did he ever make the trip just to see _me._

Sighing heavily, I thought back to all those instances where I had to find out from some Citadel Announcement board that he was there. In all those visits, all that time, he usually didn't even bother to tell me he was coming. Once upon a time, rather indulgently, I would allow myself to be hurt by his lack of tact, but eventually I became numb to the point of not caring. Or, at least, I thought I had. The very fact that he was here now NOT to admit I had been right about Saren, even after he'd vehemently protested me running off after 'that Spirits-forsaken Spectre', but to give a rousing speech to a bunch of young strangers hurt more than I cared to admit.

He hadn't even bothered to sync up a vid chat to see if I was all right after the Battle of the Citadel. The fact that he would have seen me on all the vids as the _Normandy_ crew was showered with medals didn't soften the blow. I could only guess what his motivations behind the lack of action could be. Either he assumed I was fine because he'd not heard otherwise, or he simply didn't care one way or the other. I honestly couldn't decide which answer would depress me more, so I'd tried not to think about it at all.

 _Mother or Mishta would have called._ Spirits, Sol _had_  called, and she and I hadn't seen eye to eye on anything in a long, long while.

As I got closer to the hotel, a new thought occurred to me. Perhaps he'd heard about the party at _Lapsus_. That could explain his rejection and ire. _Riza..._

 _Why am I even bothering to do this?_ I thought to myself. _Why am I inflicting the torture of a forced meeting upon myself with this man?_ A man who had chased Mother away by being married to his job, then ignored me once it became clear that I wasn't the level-headed investigator he wished me to be?

Because losing Teandra meant I had to try to salvage what family I had left, damn it, before disappearing off to Spirits knew where. She had often lamented the lack of family she had, and had expressed interest in meeting mine simply for the sheer joy of watching us all interact together. I had told her my crazy family wasn't the best choice, but she'd been adamant. Now, that would never happen, but I would make peace in any way I could, if only for her.

Besides, while I wasn't even sure where in the galaxy I would end up after leaving the Citadel, I knew I wouldn't be coming back. Already, less than a week after the report of her death, rumors were circulating the Council had submitted reports that Saren had acted on his own, and that the Reapers were a myth. As if the giant ship that had crashed into the council chambers, and onto their hero's head, wasn't proof enough. The very fact that her body probably wasn't even cold yet in whatever vastness of frozen space it floated angered me even more. They couldn't even wait until after her funeral to discredit her in a panicked frenzy.

Much as Father hated the idea of what I'd been doing and the woman I'd been with while doing it, Teandra would have wanted me to talk to him before running away. With a startled snort, I realized that Pallin had been right about one thing, at least: I _was_ emotional.

I reached my destination, and I entered the lobby slowly, feeling a smile pull at my mandibles as I caught sight of _Lapsus._ Shepard had such a good time that night, drinking damn near everyone, even Wrex, under the table in her fervor to celebrate our victory. I wasn't sure I wanted Father tainting the memory of this place...

At that moment, I almost prayed to the Spirits that he wouldn't be there. The asari clerk was quick to assure me he was, however, and informed me that my father was on the third floor. I sighed heavily at the irony.

_I swear if he's in 313 or 314, I'm going to leave, Teandra. I can't talk to my father in that room. Not after that night..._

_"_ He's in room 309, Sir. He returned to his room ten minutes ago, and informed us that he would be taking his own calls all afternoon. Would you like us to let him know you're on your way up?"

"That won't be necessary, ma'am. Thank you for such detailed information." _God, I sound like an interrogator again..._

"Well, who could forget the _infamous_ Castis Vakarian? I can't believe he spoke to me… well, he only asked if he had messages, but…" Tuning out her blathering with rolled eyes, I walked towards the elevator and hit the button to take me to my destination. Leave it to my father to pick the third floor, ironically enough for the exact same reasons Teandra had: Low enough to get down from the window if necessary, but high enough to avoid easy invasion from below, and presenting a good defensive position all the while. _He's more like her than he'll ever know._

The plush carpet felt strange underneath my boots as I exited the metal box, still as slow as ever. The material clung to my feet like the sand on Virmire, and was even similar in color. It also could have been the way my body seemed to drag as I walked across it, anticipating the almost inevitable upcoming confrontation. _Oh, Teandra, give me strength for this…_

Thinking her name, remembering her strength and the way she always went into a fight with a playful grin, I felt my own mandibles pull in an answering smile. This was just another battle; just another obstacle to overcome. Squaring my shoulders, I allowed my old C-Sec pistol strapped to my hip to comfort me slightly, and knocked on the door of room 309.

I held my breath.

The door opened, and I was standing face to face with Castis Vakarian for the first time since joining C-Sec. He looked much as he always had, blue temporary facial markings impeccably applied, civilian clothes pressed and exuding the very fibre of military discipline. His skin was the silvery color hereditary in my clan, but dulled by time and one too many battles waged.

I'm not sure what I was expecting when he saw me, though a ferocious growl fierce enough to rival a thresher maw was close, or at the very least, a door closed in my face. What I never anticipated in a million years was my father's genuinely surprised smile. His voice resonated deeply as he said, "Garrus? That you, son? Get in here, come on. You're leaving us open to ambush." He waved me past him, glancing furiously up and down the empty hallway.

Yeah, there was the dad I remembered: Always paranoid, never at ease, even when under orders by a direct superior to do so. My legs were on autopilot as I stepped into the room disbelievingly, absorbing without observing the strict cleanliness of the suite. When I had occupied a similar room down the hall (though blessedly dissimilar from the current suite in design) a somewhat organized clutter had prevailed. His room looked as if he had only just arrived, instead of having been on the Citadel for a week, making it very clear he was still as disciplined as ever. As he moved past me, I noticed for the first time he was walking with a small limp, and looked more tired than I ever remembered him being before. _The last five years haven't been kind to him, I think._

Then, I made a startling realization: _He's getting old._

I'm not an imbecile. I know that everyone ages. I'd just never really considered that fact in regard to my parents before. In my mind, he'd always been the same strong, belligerent, 'shape up or ship out' sort of man who'd raised me, but at the same time, hadn't. Now, being faced with the reality that he was just that, a man and nothing more, was rather disquieting.

The reason it was disquieting was because, if _he_ was getting old, that meant Mom was, too. And that wasn't something I was ready to face, under the circumstances.

Not now. Maybe not ever.

Walking over to a minibar stationed at the side of the room, he removed a crystal decanter, and poured himself a glass of something foul-smelling. _Turian whiskey_ my brain supplied, recalling a night Tali had gotten frustrated with my continual jokes and gotten plastered on the stuff. That evening had ended with her singing some randy rendition of "Oh, To Be a Quarian…" a performance she had repeated at _Lapsus_. My father, ever the man of many words, silently inclined his head towards me in offer of a drink. I shook my head, garnering a look of reproach from the man.

"Gallivanting around with that damn Spectre made you too good to drink with me now?" he asked mockingly, replacing the stopper before returning the bottle to the cabinet.

"No. Wanting to have a serious conversation with you instead of a drunken fight does," was my terse reply, given in a polite tone that was laced with the years of hatred our lives had harbored. Already, he was treating me like a subordinate again, something that had _always_ irritated me to no end, and I'd barely been in the room five minutes. Some things never changed, but the difference was _now_ I no longer needed his approval to feel complete. I'd grown up enough in his absence to realize that, but that sure didn't keep it from pissing me off.

I crossed my arms, and that one small motion seemed to cut loose the verbal floodgate my father had been holding back.

"Guess it doesn't matter now, right? I'm sure the Council's new human lapdog has already been to tell you she's dead."

It was an insult with a purpose. He was gauging me, trying to make me flinch, and I damn well knew the tactic for what it was. It was one I'd used myself in many an interrogation, and if I'd have had the presence of mind at the time, I'd have felt insulted at the idea that he would use something so very _basic_ to try and trip me up. I narrowed my eyes, on guard at the vehemence in his statement, but unfazed by it. I had faced down countless enemies since my adolescent fights with him, had been there when Saren had shot himself in front of our eyes in a last ditch effort at redemption. My father's pettiness was nothing in comparison.

"Yes, Father, Teandra's dead. You don't have to worry about her making me into a _disgrace to your name_ anymore." I meant the words to scathe him with guilt, since they were words he had spoken to Pallin in regards to my actions. At the time, Teandra's confidence in me had tempered the words, but not now. I wanted him to know that I was fully aware of what he thought of me, and that I didn't care anymore.

Little did I know exactly what part of that statement my father would seize upon.

"'Teandra' is it? Since when do you call your commanding officer by her first name, Garrus?" His eyes were piercing, just like always, and I knew I had to cut off that train of thought before it could derail the conversation completely.

"Yes, _Teandra_ ," I snorted derisively. "And before you can make any faulty assumptions or jump to false conclusions, all of which have been said to her and I before, let me spell it out for you: regardless of rumors, we weren't fucking, sleeping together, hooking up, or even cybering. _We were friends;_ nothing more, but certainly nothing less. The media may have had a field day after her little drunken performance, but the rest of us knew better than to take her little dance to heart."

Taking a long drink from his glass, he sloshed it at me as he replied, "Don't take that tone with me, Garrus! I'm not an idiot. Even _you,_ rebellious _verna_ that you are, wouldn't dare cross that line with a human woman. But my deductive skills weren't so highly prized for nothing. 'Spell it out.' 'Hooking up.' 'Glutton for punishment.' Those are all human sayings, ones you didn't even pick up while with that C-Sec partner of yours." When he referenced Shelaya, he did it in a similar way to when he was talking about Teandra, only with less disdain. It made sense, since she had been C-Sec. Human or not, she'd been someone who followed regulations, instead of a Spectre who played fast and loose with the law. In his mind, anyway.

He took another long drink, as if to compose his thoughts, before continuing, "Do I think you were having sexual intercourse with the woman? In a word, no. Nonetheless, there was something there that I don't like to contemplate one bit. Something that just shouldn't exist between my son and some human Spectre." His words and tone were clinical, identical to the ones he used when gathering facts for a case.

But this wasn't an investigation; this was my _life_. He didn't get a say in how I lived it, and he damn well didn't get to throw around accusations unopposed.

With a bitter chuckle, I remembered all too well when Teandra had spoken those same words to me, and the memory gave my words an edge I never intended.

" _You suspicious_ ben'jee," I growled. "I'm not one of your criminals to be psychoanalyzed! This is exactly like what you did to Mom, driving her away with your inability to actually _care_ about anyone. We both know I was never really your son, only the failed protege of the most famous detective ever." My talons began to clench and unclench of their own accord, a slip of frustration I truly didn't want him to see. "Then, when I finally find someone who's willing to let me try making a difference MY way, you try to taint that memory! It doesn't even matter anymore, though, does it?"

I placed my face in my palms for a moment, speaking through the only barrier I could create between my father and I at that precise moment in time, "Don't you see? It's over. She's... gone, and you're doing nothing but trying to make the pain _worse_." My voice broke at that last word, a hopeless sound to my own ears that made me hate myself completely.

I pulled my hands away from my face and looked at him, trying to read his expression. Was it so much to ask that he be a _father_ for once in his life? I desperately needed, if not him, _someone_ to turn to right now. Deep down, I indulged in the hope that maybe he'd be that person.

That hope turned to ash before my eyes when I saw the change in his stance. His muscles were bunched as if it were all he could do not to hit me, to force me to his point of view, and I knew that he would never do me any such favor.

With that realization, I almost wished he would strike me. My sparring lessons with Shepard had given me a slew of new tricks that I was dying to use as proof of her strength and ingenuity, qualities he deliberately ignored. A deep breath, however, was all he required to allow his better judgment to return. When he spoke, it was in the coldest of tones. A tone I'd only heard once before, when I was allowed to watch him interrogate a turian murder suspect, one who'd lied about the offense.

He turned his back on me, quite literally, as he spoke, but now as if to a stranger. "You say you aren't my son. If… that's truly how you feel, then so be it. Go make a disgrace of yourself, but do it where I don't have the be the one to clean up the mess."

I could hear as the condescension crept back into his voice, the barely concealed hatred masked by indifference. "You're no better than the scum on Omega, always looking out for their own best interests." I didn't move, didn't breathe, but not out of some foolish idea that I could somehow make matters worse. There _was_ nothing worse to my people than to be disowned, to be without a clan, without a home, and somehow, I knew the next words he spoke would change everything.

He straightened his shoulders, turning back to me with his voice full of venom, "Get out. And don't bother ever coming back."

I turned without speaking, allowing myself to feel only the anger and none of the agony his words caused. While I had not thought of him or anything associated with him as "home" for a long, long time, his words hit me hard. But mulling over having lost not one, but two people in my life in a single week would have to wait for later. Right then, I needed to be strong so I could walk away with what was left of my pride, and anger gave me that strength.

Still, I couldn't help but pause at the door to look over my shoulder, to make one last unspoken attempt to connect with him. My father's head was bowed over his now empty glass, face contorted in an expression I couldn't even begin to decipher.

"You weren't good enough to have known her, Father," I said, softly. "I'm glad she never had to meet you."

As I retreated down the hall, the hiss of the closing door imprinted on my consciousness in a way I knew I would never forget.


	4. Aftermath

_"And you can't fight the tears that ain't coming_

_Or the moment of truth in your lies_

_When everything feels like the movies_

_Yeah, you bleed just to know you're alive."_

_Iris_ \- GooGoo Dolls

**Chapter 4- Aftermath**

"Keep 'em coming, and don't stop until I tell you…" I told the batarian behind the bar. He silently refilled my shot glass with some disgusting excuse for whiskey, which I downed before the bottle could hit the counter. Signaling for another, I allowed the atmosphere of lower Afterlife to beat around me, the ebb and flow of music and voices drowning out any chance at coherent thought that remained after the alcohol. Normally I would have been on edge at the loss of my senses, but not tonight. Tonight, I would get drunk in memory of old friends; or perhaps in spite of their memories.

The decision to come to Omega was one that had come both slowly and all at once. I had wandered back to my flat after the confrontation with my father, wishing that all the packing was complete so I could get out of that damned utopia of a Citadel. I had sold most of my belongings, keeping my weapons and armor. Especially dear to me was Shepard's old HMWSR, a parting gift when she left me. _It'll be your backup when I'm not there, Garrus. I don't like leaving you at the mercy of those barefaced idiots on the Council,_ she had said. I still smile at the sound of her voice using a turian phrase. But there were still small incidentals to gather, and I was going to have to send my refusal letter to the said idiots. They had taken the time to consider me as a candidate, and no amount of anger could remove a lifetime of conditioning to respond in kind.

But the hesitation was there, since I wasn't sure what to tell them. The truth, that their blatant disregard for everything Shepard and her crew had fought for made me unable to ever work for them, didn't seem to be the answer Shepard would have wanted me to give them. She had always tolerated their disapproval, had even sacrificed human lives to save them… and they were pretending to mourn her while spitting on her memory. It sickened and angered me, and I wasn't sure how to get around that to do the right thing like she'd always pushed me to. In the end, I'd sent a barely civil note informing them that I would be unable to meet them for evaluation, with no explanation. They could accept it, or go to hell, as Teandra would have put it.

I arrived to the cheerful chime of waiting messages, and almost deleted them without reading before noting one sender: Tali. I allowed a brief pang of sadness to touch my soul, remembering that leaving the _Normandy_ hadn't just meant leaving Teandra. The rest of the crew and I had gotten along with varying degrees of tolerance, but Tali had reminded me so forcefully of Mishta, my little sister, that I had instantly responded to her practical jokes in kind. Shepard had found this amusing, claiming she once knew a young girl on Earth much like Tali as well. The quarian had held a special place in both our hearts, and Shepard hadn't hesitated to give the girl the geth data she needed for her pilgrimage. In return, Tali had stayed on for a while longer, had been there when the _Normandy_ went down… I opened the message

 _Hey_ Spir'ata,

_I am not sure what to say, other than there was nothing you could have done. Kaidan tried, wanted to stay and help her, and was ordered onto an escape pod without her. You know how she reacted when her orders were questioned, even by you._

_Speaking of Kaidan, it was probably a good thing you were not there for the aftermath, Garrus. Kaidan lost it, taking all his grief out on Joker, in a display that was well beyond anything I would have ever expected of the biotic. It took all my ingenuity and Liara's mental control to keep Alenko from killing him. If that is what he thought Shepard would have wanted, he did not know her at all. You pointing out how_ little _he actually knew her would have turned that anger on you, and Keelah, I do not think a murder sentence would have done you any good right about now._

_I am heading back to the fleet, Garrus. I am going home. It was a hard decision, but it seems like the best way for me to honor her memory is to put the information she gave me to good use. If you need me, you can always find me there. Just send me a message, and I will get you onto the Flotilla somehow. Watch them try and stop me._

_Tali_

The short note brought home the extent of my wallowing. "Honor her memory…" I wasn't even trying to do that. I was a traitor to her. I was no better than Kaidan. I was, how had my father put it, _no better than that scum on Omega, always looking out for their own best interests…_ I hated it when that _ferazah_ was right.

So... Why the fuck not? I'd go to Omega, become a mercenary. I had the skills, and police work held a bitter taste for me…

Almost as bitter as the ninth straight shot of watered down whiskey burning it's way down my throat. I coughed but motioned for more, earning an admiring look from the bartender. I was glad Shepard couldn't see me, the conversation she and I had shared about alcohol coming to mind.

* * *

" _Not going with the crew to party it up, little Spectre?" I asked the still figure at the mess table. She was wearing a form-fitting blue shirt over pants of a dark material Ashley called 'jeans.' When not in armor, this type of clothing had become commonplace for her. Watching Kaidan's reactions to how little it left to the imagination, I didn't have to wonder why. What I did wonder was why the whole crew was emptying into the Citadel for some R &R, and she wasn't tagging along to spend time with Kaidan like any normal mate. She looked up at me, auburn hair catching the artificial lighting as she examined my own casual attire. Our sparring match earlier in the day had wiped me of all need to do anything but hang around the ship, so I had volunteered to stay and let Joker have a chance at the Presidium girls._

" _I don't think so, Garrus. Alcohol and I aren't the greatest of bedfellows. It dulls the senses, leaves you open to situations you should see coming a mile away. I don't have a problem with my crew drinking, but they should never expect me to partake." Her eyes looked tired, but her smile let me know she was enjoying the company. She pushed the datapad that had held her attention away, waving a hand at the seat opposite her in invitation. I obliged, sensing her mood. She went on, "I'm not keeping you from your own R &R, am I?"_

" _Not a chance. I've seen enough of the Citadel to last me a lifetime. I used to roust the criminals here, remember? Can't relax knowing the man next to me might be a red-sand dealer I screwed over at some point. Besides, that poor, lonely turian girl I might have met wouldn't have been pleased with my performance after the thrashing you gave me on the sparring mat earlier…" Shepard had pulled out some weird twist and kick motion that had me pinned to the mat in two seconds flat. Her gleeful laugh and dancing eyes were well worth the loss, I had reflected afterwards. She snorted, commenting, "That is ALSO a good reason for me to stay away from alcohol. I tend to be the 'fucking or fighting' type."_

_I tilted my head, unfamiliar with the term. Noting the unspoken question, she continued, "Another of my Earth sayings. Most humans hold their alcohol just fine. But there's an occasional one that responds by needing to either kill or screw the person nearest them. I tend towards the latter of the two, and I hate the loss of control." I considered the contemplative look on her face, the instinctive shame she associated with anything regarding sex, and decided to do something to lighten the mood._

" _Don't feel bad, little Spectre. The 'or' in that statement wouldn't even occur to a turian pair. Fighting is like the human equivalent of flirting for us in many cases, and considering how many turian soldiers there are…" She burst out laughing, which was the goal, as she realized I had just accused my entire species of being continually sexually frustrated. Her joy broke over me like a warm wave, and I wondered how I had ever gotten along without her optimism to bolster my own._

" _Tell you what, Garrus. I have a couple of movies from early earth film-making. I was going to watch one tonight, but wouldn't turn down another pair of eyes. Want to tag along? Two sober warriors making fun of waaay outdated special effects."_

" _You might have to stop to explain the references, but it worth a shot. What's it called anyway?"_

_The evil look on her face was lost on me at the time, "Oh, I think you'll find the main antagonist familiar, since I'm half convinced he's actually a horribly rendered turian. Movie's called Predator..."_

* * *

My talons clenched around the shot glass, remembering the strange spiced rum Kaidan had dragged on the ship the night before we'd gone after Saren. Recalled the anger at herself Teandra had displayed on the sparring mat afterwards. She'd never come out and said it, but it was my belief Kaidan had tired of the flirting and moved things forward the only way he knew how. She'd consented, she had assured me after much pestering, but I had always hated the possessive way he watched her, and it only got worse after that night. At least I didn't have to worry about him anymore.

Coming out of my reverie, I noticed the bottle of whiskey was almost gone. I was deciding whether to just drink until I passed out at the bar when a voice I hadn't heard in what seemed a thousand years cut across my consciousness, bringing back memories of gunfire and brotherhood; of common enemies and never-ending support.

"Garrus Vakarian? No fucking way. What are you doing in this shit-hole? I heard you'd become some big hero or something." I turned to face the speaker, a turian whose tribal marking were as familiar to me as my own. My old comrade from basic, as well as more battles than I cared to count, stood before me. I was dumbfounded for a moment, convinced it was the alcohol playing tricks on me, before I finally responded with joy in my voice for the first time since Shepard's death:

"Holy fucking shit! Lantar Sidonis, how the fuck are you?"


	5. Old Friends

" _Nobody asks to be a hero; it just sometimes turns out that way_."

Eversman- _Black Hawk Down_

**Chapter 5- Old Friends**

The turian before me hadn't changed a bit. Standing about my height and stature, his tribal markings were of a similar color to my own. The design they bore was like a shock of cold water to my whiskey-addled brain, reminding me of Mishta at her happiest…

"I've been better, brother. Life has been hard after… well, after she died," Sidonis responded, obviously glad to see me, but with a taint of sadness there too. I'm sure memories of Mishta were hard for him. I know they weren't easy for me.

"Sit down, have a drink. I think the bartender would be more than willing to add to my tab." After brushing off some unnamable grime, Sidonis took the seat next to me, and ordered his own shot.

"Enough about love and loss, Garrus. How's it feel to work with the hero of the galaxy…" The irony of the statement was not lost on me, unintentional as it was.

"You mean you haven't heard, Lantar? Her ship went down. They can't even find a damn body." My posture was tensing again, but conversation with my old friend was as easy as breathing. I felt something hard within me begin to unknot in his presence, memories of thousands of conversations just like this one permeating my brain. Sidonis had always been easy to talk to, eager to listen. Going home on leave with him in tow had left me with a sister who sent me messages about him nonstop, thinly disguised as her checking on my welfare. It came as no surprise when they applied for the marriage rites less than a year later, and I was glad for them. Father had been happy too, for once in his life, and even Sol had allowed a crack in her serious demeanor to show for a while.

The rites were beautiful, with Lantar and Mishta applying paint to each other in the markings of his tribe. I always tried to think of her that way, not the way she was six months later, heavy with child. The child that died as it took her life.

"Shit, Garrus. You're kidding, right? She must have been one hell of a warrior. You were in every vid they took of her, pretty much." His tone was jovial, but searching. Spirits, he knew me too well. He was trying to bring to light things I would rather leave buried.

"I was her right hand man, Lantar."

Sidonis looked at me, hard, for a moment, before saying, "Why don't you tell me about her, Garrus?"

So I did.

I told him about sparring matches that ended with me on my back more than I cared to admit. About her amazing skill with a sniper rifle ("Coming from you, that's a damn compliment."). About her easy manipulation of her crew into a cohesive tactical unit. About her beauty and grace; the hardness she possessed. I even hinted about her childhood, and the trust she had given when we had barely known each other in allowing me comfort her. I tried to stay clinical, but the ability to finally share my grief with someone I wouldn't have to hold back with overcame my fears. I was finally able to let the tears fall for everything I had lost, sitting in that dingy, disgusting bar on Omega.

As my jumbled recollections came to rest, Sidonis asked the question no one else had been perceptive enough to, or perhaps had cared to: "You never told her, did you?"

"What the hell _could_ I tell her? I'm really not sure we really were anything but the closest of friends. She flirted with _everyone_ , Lantar, was the light that pulled us all out of the ignorant darkness of our own design. Even if I thought about doing something, she courted a human male on the ship, if _courtship_ is what you would call it." I laughed derisively to myself, running a hand over my fringe wearily, "Besides, I didn't realize how much I'd miss her until I knew she was gone."

"That's usually the way it works, Garrus. I miss Mishta more every day. But at least we had our time together."

"And assuming the constellations aligned and we'd tried to have ours, it would have been tainted by fucking Reaper invasions and bad press regarding turian/human relations." This was territory I didn't want to tread. I had lied to the crew of the _Normandy_ , my dad, and even myself. But Lantar was a brother to me, and I knew I wouldn't be able to continue to hide from him the extent of my depression, the way it was eating at my very soul.

He watched me, wary, before waving the bartender for another round. "Alright, big guy, you still didn't tell me what the hell you're doing here." He was changing the subject, giving me a much needed out, and I sure as hell took it.

"Been here about a month. Thought I'd come find mercenary work…"

 

* * *

_The streets are laced with not just a layer of grime, but a thick coating of grease and dirt that leaves you thinking you've just walked through Varren shit. The smell is almost unbearable, if you could stop avoiding the pickpockets and drug-dealers long enough to notice. The jumbled architecture gives the place a unique personality. It's a dangerous one, but unique just the same._

 

_Humans had always called it Omega, a reference to an outdated language from their planet. It symbolized the end, the last place of refuge from Citadel Space. The feeling did not transcend all species, though. The asari name for it translated as 'heart of evil', the salarian name as 'the place of secrets,' the turian name as 'the world without law', and the krogan name is as the 'land of opportunity'._

_I'm barely beginning to explore the city when I'm accosted by a turian dressed in heavy armor. "Garrus Vakarian?" I don't register surprise at his knowledge, surmising he works for Aria T'Loak. I keep my gun at the ready, not willing to trust assumptions, but also not willing to piss off the one person who can get me thrown off this rock. So, I follow him at his silent request._

_He takes me through several dimly lit backstreets before we come through a final doorway, and I'm in a lower level of Afterlife. Red lighting coupled with a steady dance beat and scantily clad asari dances give the bar a seedy feel. There is no hesitation in my guide's movements as he weaves through the crowd without waiting to see if I follow.  
_

_Several minutes later find me mounting a dias, coming face to face with an asari. Usually, they're all soft lines and curves, voices used for manipulation. This is not your usual asari. Aria's face holds a hard edge, her voice a barely contained vessel for violence._

" _Vakarian. What the fuck are you doing on my station? Hope you're not planning on disrupting my operations." She sits on a couch facing me, posture indicating a relaxation her eyes don't reflect, pistol easily held within one hand. She doesn't wait for my response, going on, "You may be the law in some places, but here you're just a sniper, if a damn good one. I've heard things about the missions you ran with that Spectre… you looking for work, Vakarian?"_

_I nod, not trusting my voice to allow me to use the word mercenary to describe myself. How low I have fallen… become the person my father always said I would. But I've come too far to turn back._

" _Tell you what. Having a hero on my payroll will give the boys who work for me a pause. There's been some talk among the ranks that I don't fucking care for. You do a couple of jobs for me, and I'll let you stay in my city without a hassle. I don't like cops, even ex-cops, but I get the feeling you aren't here in that capacity." I'm not sure if her piercing eyes are reading my beaten and defiant posture, or if her informant network has given her the information to lead her to that conclusion, but either way it works._

" _What you got for me?"_

* * *

"Okay, I know you Garrus… breaking kneecaps isn't your idea of a good time."

"I did what was necessary. Ran a couple of missions, scared and intimidated some shop owners into paying their fees to Aria. Aimed some well placed shots at some Eclipse mercs trying to give her a ration of shit. But then, one last mission to pay my debt to her came, and it was a fucking emotional nightmare."

 

* * *

_I'm doing what I do best, sitting in a well-placed sniper position awaiting my orders. I'm working with some Blue Suns mercs. Aria has decided to farm me out for one last mission, and I oblige, eager for the challenge. When I'm behind the rifle scope, I don't feel anything except exhilaration at the kill. The HMWSR is warm in my talons, eyepiece carefully calculating trajectories to the ambush site. There are about ten mercenaries awaiting some drell and asari. As the two round the corner, I find my scope filled with the face of Liara T'Soni._

_I'm not sure why she's there, but I know I can't shoot her, not without feeling as if I were betraying my little Spectre. Instead, I retrain the rifle, taking down several of the mercs before they've had a chance to fire. The two turn and run, leaving me to take out the rest… which I do without hesitation. Teandra's memory has invaded the calm of the sniper rifle because of Liara's presence, and I am ashamed._

_I return to Aria, sure she's not going to be happy. But as far as she's concerned, the contract was fulfilled. I don't waste time questioning her mercy._

* * *

"So what are you doing now, Garrus? You obviously won't do the mercenary thing anymore… that last mission brought that home, didn't it?"

"Exactly what I was contemplating when you showed up… that, and how good a pillow this bar would make." Lantar laughed, lightening the mood as he placed a hand under my arm to get me off of the stool. I stumbled, but did manage to remain standing. "C'mon, I've got a flat near here, brother. Can only offer you a spot on the couch, but it's better than this place." _Spirits, I've never been this fucked up in my life. Then again, Teandra still has me beat for over-the-top drunk behavior._ A statement proven by the fact I wasn't molesting Sidonis. I chuckled drunkenly.

We exited afterlife, my steps weaving only slightly in spite of the massive amount of alcohol I had drowned myself with. We made our way towards the markets area, trading stories, when we heard a human woman's scream from around the next corner. Instantly, my drunkenness was gone. I drew my pistol, shaking off Lantar's talons roughly as I did so, and moved forward.

The picture before me was sickening. Teandra had told me of her own rape at Finch's hands, and it had pissed me off at the time in spite of my short acquaintance with her. The situation before me reminded me of her breakdown forcefully enough to boil my blood. A human male held a brunette by the throat against the wall. Her hands were flailing against his arms uselessly as she wailed piteously, and leering he began using a knife to slit her skirt in order to gain easier access. My vision hazed, and I couldn't even see what the woman looked like. All I could see was auburn hair and cerulean eyes at the hand of a monster...

Before I could stop myself, before I could register what was happening, my pistol fired with a resonating thud. The man's head disintegrated, splattering the woman with several types of gore in varying shades of grey and red. She screamed even louder, and ran from us, stumbling over the body as she went.

"What the fuck, Garrus? What was that all about?" We left the body untouched without a backwards glance, continuing towards the promised flat.

"I'll explain the concept of rape some other time, Lantar," I sighed heavily, "I just can't believe no one else bothered to help."

"That's the way it is around here, Garrus. We keep our head down in hopes it doesn't get shot off." His tone was resigned, as if he didn't like the situation but knew his boundaries.

"Aria's ruthless, but she doesn't bother the common folk. Who reigns in the mercenaries, Lantar? Who looks out for the little people?" We arrived at a door, and Lantar opened it with a code, exposing a two room flat containing little more than a dining area and couch in the first room. He steered me towards the latter, before moving towards his own room. I flung myself on it face-down, commenting into the soft material, "Maybe that's what I should do to honor her. Save the people of the Omega…" Lantar's soft snores were his only response.


	6. Recruiting

_"You mean, you'll put down your rock and I'll put down my sword, and we'll try to kill each other like civilized people?"_

Wesley- _The Princess Bride_

**Chapter 6- Recruiting**

After years of having criminals at your back, you always know when someone wants you dead. Today was no exception. There was always something that tipped you off, if you were observant enough to let it. On this occasion it was the watchful way those two krogan followed my every move. I didn't like it one bit.

I knew pulling a team together would bring enemies. Hell, Shepard had always had more than she could count, and she had more talons than I did. But I hadn't expected the ferocity with which our operations would be viewed. I mean, we'd only taken down one _little_ Eclipse smuggling ship. Oh, and the Blue Suns had never quite forgiven me my little sniping spree. And the Blood Pack? They'd made the mistake of attempting to start a sex slave trade. I was amazed Aria had backed me on that.

Not that she supported my every move, but she'd made it very clear where she stood. _Don't get in my fucking way, and don't fuck with my operations, and I don't care what the fuck you do…Archangel._ The name still chagrined me, but after a couple of months shooting would be murderers and rapists in back alleys, what was a turian to expect? It also brought home the fact that many of the victims I saved were human, and I was secure enough to admit I knew why.

The path from my drunken idea to becoming a full blown vigilante was not an overnight occurrence. Sidonis was a little reluctant to jump on board, but it only took me explaining exactly what we had interrupted in that alley for him to concede my point. Rape was not a concept the rest of the civilized galaxy understood, though I'd run into it several times on the Citadel. It had never struck me as particularly brutal until I saw the result it had on the victims. The psychological effects lasted well beyond the event, as Shepard's revelations had shown me.

Emulating her was not so easy as it would sound though. Some of the crew was simple. I'd worked with several displeased mercenaries during my time with Aria, people who were on Omega for much the same reason I was: force of circumstance or having nowhere else to go. They didn't like the work, but it was a paying job. These were the easiest to recruit. I even tried to get to know each of them, much as Teandra would have.

Kheron was the first. He was much the same as any drell I'd ever met: quiet, contained, and withdrawn. I approached him cautiously, unsure how he would respond to my request.

* * *

" _Kheron, may I speak with you?" He was in his usual haunt, a small pub on the other side of Omega called the Varren's Fringe. It tended to cater more towards the non-humans, and was more peaceful than the crowded Afterlife. After several missions with the drell I had been in awe of his hand-to-hand combat skills, and knew such abilities would be worth having on the team._

" _Of course, Vakarian. How did your last run for Aria go? She's starting to use your sniper skills quite often, I notice."_

_Dodging the question, I said, "It was my last one for her. Starting something new now…" I lowered my voice, "Starting up a group with a different mindset. Taking down mercenary operations that harm the civilians here. You struck me as the type that may be interested, and we sure as hell could use your skills…" I trailed off, his silence causing me to reconsider my decision to ask him._

" _You wish for… my assistance in this matter?"_

" _It's little more than a dangerous suicide quest, but the people of Omega need this, yes."_

_The drell looked down, quietly considering his hands for a moment, before responding, "It is a challenge worthy of my skills. Just tell me when to show up."_

* * *

And so it had begun. Similar conversations followed, and couple of months later found me with a sizable crew already filling the building we had commissioned as our base of operations. They were even multi-racial, much as Shepard's crew had been, and I couldn't stop myself from drawing similarities. One recent conversation with Sidonis in particular came to mind in reflection of their talents.

* * *

" _Sidonis, status report," I barked, not bothering to look up from the datapad in my hands. The sheer volume of work needed to be done to establish an informant ring, keeping the 'testosterone laden idiots' (as Teandra would have put it) from killing each other, and in procuring the needed armor, equipment, and weapons for my crew was overwhelming. He responded in a calm voice, making my tension so much more obvious, "All weapons for current crew acquired and logged. Armor sufficient except for the batarian, which will have to be special ordered. His own light armor will do for the moment. Crew have no concerns to address to you."_

" _And the skill evaluations?" In response, Sidonis handed me a new datapad, listing our crew and their skill sets._

 _**Jarolan Retahe-** _ _salarian tech specialist- excellent with VI hacking_ _**.** _ _Only needs one hour of sleep per day, so useful in sniper infiltration teams. Formerly of the Blue Suns mercenary group, but didn't feel skills were appreciated. Loyalty guaranteed with payment._

 _**Chaven Dal'ba** _ **-** _batarian hacker- best of the best- can crack any code, anywhere. Excellent at funneling credits into our bank accounts. Will continue to support us as long as he gets sole responsibility for hacking any datapads we find. Agreed as long as the credits keep coming in to support operations. No known history._

 _**Boomer** _ _\- turian grenadier- Refuses to discuss history or connections. Expert with grenade and launchers. Will remain loyal so long as there are things to blow up._

 _**Kheron Thor** _ _\- drell assassin- expert in hand-to-hand combat. Loyalty dependent on the challenge of our ventures._

 _**Canderous Ordo** _ _\- older human male- bit rough around the edges- but excellent with a shotgun. Loves to tell war stories, and considers mercenary to be a dirty term. He's here for the glory of battle, and the pay._

 _**Dar Butler** _ _\- human male biotic- not the greatest, but the greatest we could get on this shit-hole that could fill the biotic gap. Throw and pull abilities are good. Shielding abilities nil. Looking to get some scars that prove his skills._

 _**Shep Jackson** _ _\- human soldier- skilled in all weapons- would not state reason for joining, other than vague references to atonement. Loyalties unknown._

_I sighed as I put down the dossiers. "We still have glaring holes in our biotics and short range shielding, Sidonis. We need to find some heavies. I'm just not sure what to do about the biotics…" I stopped at a look from Jantar, a cross between relief and chagrin._

" _We've had an offer of biotics. A former cabal member."_

" _A turian? Why didn't you sign him up? You know I don't have the biotics prejudices the military tends to have."_

_Sidonis looked uncomfortable. "I'm not sure that you'll appreciate certain attributes this individual has."_

_I didn't have time for this._

" _Arrange a meeting. I'll evaluate him myself."_

" _But…"_

" _Just do it."_

* * *

Two days later had found me here, on the way through the back alleys of Omega to meet our turian. The two krogan tailing me were unexpected, but not surprising. I rounded a corner, making a decision, and pulled my Kovalyov X as I went. _Long way from my old Lancer, eh, Teandra?_

I crouched in the ready, and as my two followers came forward, I fired a warning shot at their feet.

"That's close enough. What do you want?" Straight to the point, that was my new mantra. Both krogan were dressed in identical suits of onyx armor, one traced with green and the other with red. Both were carrying shotguns held at the ready.

Red apparently thought I was bluffing, because he grinned and took a step forward. I took a shot at his leg, bringing his shields down.

"Want to keep testing me? I _will_ kill you."

Red and green looked at each other, then started laughing deep throaty laughs that I didn't like a bit.

"I like him," green said, "He's got more quad than those whiny Eclipse bitches." I was busy working escape routes and trajectories, wondering if I could make it out alive. His words gave me a new idea, though. I'd told Sidonis we needed heavies, after all.

"How much they paying you guys?"

"One thousand credits apiece," red responded.

"That's it? I thought I'd be worth more than that by now... How about I double it and you forget you were hired."

They exchanged another look, then green spoke up again.

"I'm Nex, that's Nero, brood-brothers of the Gatatog clan. And we'll make a deal with you. You sign us up, and we'll call it even."

My mandibles twitched as I found myself unable to keep the distrust from my face.

"What's the catch?"

"It's simple. We're here because when you make someone your enemy, they're already dead; you just haven't pulled the trigger yet. At the rate your killing things, Garm will be on your list one day, and we want to see him taken down. Our reasons are our own."

I thought about it for, oh, all of five seconds before pulling out Shepard's catchphrase, "Welcome aboard, gentleman." I gave them directions to the warehouse, including the passcode.

"What the fuck is 'butterscotch'?" I smiled as I walked away, not answering.

The rest of my walk was uneventful, and I arrived at the Omega slums in record time. The slums were a collection of everything we were fighting to protect. The poor and downtrodden populated the streets and one room flats. And though the watchful glint never left anyone's eyes, there were moments of happiness and peace. The room where I'd agreed to meet our biotic was at the far end of a lone corridor, a place less likely to be overheard.

I walked through the door, the stench of mold hitting my olfactory senses almost immediately. The room appeared empty, and I was already late because of the Gatatog brothers. I checked my omni-tool for the time, wondering if I had missed him.

Suddenly, a flash of blue lit the room, and I found myself in stasis for the second time in my life. It didn't hold good memories for me, as the last time had been at the hands of the psychopath Matriarch Benezia. Straining uselessly against the biotic bonds, my eyes searched for my would-be assailant. I cursed myself for being overconfident, for walking blindly into the trap.

"Is that a good enough biotics display for you, _Archangel_?" A strong, feminine voice asked, releasing the bonds and dropping me to the floor. I snarled, crouched, and whirled around to face her, weapon forgotten in my rage at the trickery.

"My, you do move things quickly, don't you?" I took in the woman that matched the face. Spirits, she was beautiful: short, dyed and decorated fringe that hinted at more than a little vanity; muscled limbs; broad waist; and her coloring… she was turian artwork animated. Had I not been so enraged, her thrall probably would have overcome me immediately. As it was, I managed not to stare at her like an idiot as I retained my aggressive stance. She laughed, mandibles flaring in answered challenge, and crouched herself. Before I could even begin to respond, she lunged, barreling me over and pinning me. I threw her off with one solid kick, more pissed than when we had begun.

This was all too familiar, the sparring set to the music of a feminine laughter. It was reminding me forcefully of Teandra in a situation I would rather not recall. I had more than once told her that fighting was foreplay, but she had insisted she needed the practice, and I had obliged.

But the scent of this female, so close and so obviously baiting me, was almost unbearable. And she was acting so much like Teandra…

Another solid shoulder plate to the gut as I went down shook me from my reverie. The turian straddled me, pinning my arms at my sides, before speaking.

"Jintah Kryus. Formerly of the 313th Cabal. I officially just kicked your ass, so I'm hoping I passed your little test. What's it going to be?" When I didn't immediately answer, she leaned forward, breathing hotly onto my neck: "I could make a more aggressive argument, if you like…"

Summoning all the energy and willpower I had left, I broke her hold and shoved her off, regaining my feet at the same time she did.

"Damn, woman, keep your plating together." I shook my head, forcing the image of what her more 'aggressive' arguing would entail. It had been a long time, but I sure as hell wasn't desperate enough to fuck some strange girl in the disgusting back alley of an Omega slum. I had standards.

"You could have stopped at the biotics, I assure you. The rest just makes me want to tell you to fuck off. You don't need to screw your way onto my team."

"Oh, that was just a perk, trust me," her green eyes held more than a little remaining lust.

_Damn._

"Okay, just hold on a minute. Why the hell do you want in so bad? Do you even know who we are? What we're doing?"

"Yeah. You're someone that won't look at me like I'm evil incarnate for being a turian biotic. That's good enough for me. Am I in, Archangel?" She moved her left hand to rest on her hip, calling attention to her waist suggestively. This girl held the potential to be a problem, I could see that right now. But she was also the best damn biotic I'd ever seen.

"All right, you're in. But you cause any damn trouble and your back out just as quick." I was going to regret this, I just knew it.

"Oh, don't worry, _Archangel_. I wouldn't dream of sparring with anyone else… you're always welcome to change _your_ mind of course."

I stalked past her, wondering what the hell I'd gotten myself into.


	7. Dreaming

_"All women are wonders because they reduce all men to the obvious."_

Leonard Eels- _Out of the Past_

**Chapter 7- Dreaming**

_Her hands are secured to the headboard, the silken bindings ripped from the garment she had been wearing so shortly before. I have a hold of that glossy auburn hair, talons gently caressing the soft skin of her back, the motion eliciting a shiver from her. Then, ever so slowly, I enter her for the first time, reveling in the softness and the never ending heat. It feels like home, the sound of her calling my name so erotic and passionate... I lean forward, possessively nipping her shoulder as I move within her, enjoying the control as much as the feel of her clenching around me with so much need. She begins to moan with abandon, working against her bonds in an attempt to move with me, and looks over her shoulder to meet my eyes. The lust and want there send me over the edge…_

I woke to the sound of my own moans.

For a moment, I forgot where I was; my mind still trapped within the boundaries of the dream I had just left. _Where the hell had that come from?_ It had to be stress, or the attentions of a certain female turian who didn't want to take no for an answer. Her advances were becoming harder to ignore, Sidonis's sly looks easier to tolerate.

But I had never thought of Shepard that way before. I knew I should feel ashamed, but… I also knew it was a damn good thing I hadn't had dreams like that when Teandra was alive. Our flirting might have had more meaning than we intended if I had.

It had been eighteen earth months since Anderson had invaded my home with news of her death. Eighteen months of rerouting shipments, taking down mercenary groups, and generally disrupting any operation that involved the more active gangs like the Eclipse, Blue Suns, or Blood Pack. There were some up and comers like the Talons that we were keeping an eye on as well, but so far they hadn't given us a reason to more formally introduce them to the "Archangel."

Meanwhile, our team had come together seamlessly with the addition of Jintah and the Brash Brothers. Missions went off without a hitch most days, my informant network was forming nicely, and even Aria was enjoying us taking down her competition. The vigilante life, as it stood, was about as good as it could get.

But Jintah was making things difficult for me. On some level, I was flattered by her attentions. What blue-blooded turian male wouldn't be flattered by a gorgeous woman practically throwing herself at him? But I really wasn't interested, a fact which Sidonis gave me no end of grief for.

 

* * *

" _Okay, Garrus, are you ever going to let yourself live a little?" Sidonis corners me, yet another datapad in my hands. I really am starting to look like Shepard now, always working some mission prep._

" _What the hell are you talking about, Lantar?"_

" _Jintah's sulking in the corner again. What did you say to her?"_

 _Sighing heavily, I respond, "Why do you listen to her drivel? She's only using you to try to manipulate me. And I told her 'No' just like I have since day one."_  

" _Why, Garrus? The Spectre? She's dead, and never laid claim on you. You don't owe her anything more than what you've already given her." There is pain in his voice, a pleading attempt for me to understand his need for both of us to move on._

_I turn on him, eyes afire but temper in check,"Have you really forgotten Mishta so easily?" I already know the answer he will give, but want him to connect it to my own feelings._

" _It's been over a year, Garrus. How long will you mourn for the 'what ifs'?"_

" _Maybe forever... as long as my little Spectre keeps hold of my soul, it would be wrong to try to replace her."_

* * *

I made my way to the dining area, lost in my own thoughts, mindlessly searching for something to occupy my hands and head. The cold storage held the last batch of some kilaka fruit, and I gratefully munched on the old favorite, taking a seat at the table bench.

Soft clacking warned me of her approach.

"Late night, Archangel?"

"Couldn't sleep," short, but not rude. That was the idea.

"I could help with that, you know. I heard you talking in your sleep…"

I groaned, mandibles twitching as I favored her with a disgusted look. "You never give up, do you?"

She grinned, "Never. Persistence is a virtue, after all." She sat at the bench across from me, positioning herself to show off her best features. "Besides, if I know anything, it's the cues men give off when they're interested. And for all your words, your body language says otherwise. It's only a matter of time." Something about her smug tone pissed me off.

"What are you talking about? I've never given you **one** indication…"

"Bullshit, Archangel. Need me to spell it out for you? One, you blink more rapidly when I speak to you. Two, you stand straighter. And three, your voice drops an octave. All classic signs of turian physical interest. So lie to yourself all you want. I'm a patient woman."

Completely exasperated, I said, "Jintah, you're misreading me. Yes, you're an attractive specimen of the species. But the things you're noticing are because your personality remind me of someone else. You need to understand that."

She reached across the table, stroking one decorated talon across my cheek, lightly scratching at the mandibles. Aroused as I already was from the dream, the touch pulled a growl from deep in my throat before I could stop it. I reached up to touch her hand, allowing myself this brief moment of weakness. She took that as permission to continue, pulling herself onto the table to look me face to face.

"I can help with this sadness, Archangel. Let me…" She moved forward, talons reaching to trace my fringe as her green eyes shine…

_Wait, Teandra's eyes are blue… the cerulean shade of Palavan's oceans. What the hell am I doing?_

I fell back, pulling away in a display of complete and utter awkwardness that left me on the floor, but out of the siren's grasp.

Getting to my feet, angry at myself as much as her, I spoke through clenched teeth. "Leave me alone, do you understand? Do your damn job, and that's it, or you're off my team." I moved away quickly and without looking back, but no amount of space could keep me from feeling the look of hate and disappointment that bored between my shoulder plates.

I wished I could explain, assuage Jintah's hurt feelings, but even _I_ didn't know why I couldn't get Teandra out of my brain. It had never been like this when she was alive. We had been friends, comrades in arms. We had depended on each other emotionally as well as on the battlefield. In essence, we had been lovers in all but the most animal sense. She had turned to Alenko for that, and I had never begrudged him her decision. But if things had been different, if I hadn't been such a coward to stay content in my role, would that have been enough to make a difference when it counted? Would it have been enough to keep from losing her?

I was trying to fix things here on Omega in order to honor her memory. But I was also drowning in parts of it that never would have come to light if she were still alive. It was time to turn off the emotional aspect, to realize she was dead no matter what my soul believed. I had a group of warriors that was depending on me, that believed in me, and I would be their Commander. That was my place now. I only hope Teandra would forgive me for forsaking her lessons in compassion. My heart had no room for them anymore.


	8. Stakeout

_"We exist on the edge between the gloss and reality..."_

_Mirror's Edge_

**Chapter 8- Stakeout**

"We'll place entry teams here, here, and here," I indicated each location on the map of the Eclipse warehouse. "We'll move in once we're sure the stolen tech is there. Jintah, Kheron, you're on first four hour rotation with me on the stakeout. Ordo and Jarolan are second rotation. Sidonis has the rest of the roster. Everyone get some rest, it's going to be a long couple of days."

I examined the group's faces, a variety of colors and expressions that all displayed the same message: ready for action. Up until this point, we had been running operations that were little more than skirmish missions; they were meant to build team unity and give everyone time to get used to each others strengths and weaknesses. But the real tests were about to begin before long.

* * *

Jintah seemed uneasy as we settled into position. I settled my sniper rifle into its shooter's rest, using the scope to sweep for activity before repositioning more comfortably. The city of Omega lay before me, jumbled buildings and dirty streets. But it was beginning to feel like home to me, I realized.

Kheron settled back into a corner, lost within his own thoughts as usual. He tended to be the quietest of our bunch, but the amazing way he could take out an opponent with the flick of his wrist tended to keep the others from bothering him. Even the Brash Brothers. Each of the team had learned to mesh, on some level, with the others. It wasn't perfection; that would only come with time. But I took a sense of pride in the results the hodge-podge team was able to produce.

Jintah shuffled again, and I briefly turned my attention to her before returning to my surveillance.

"Go on, spit it out."

"What?" She sounded incredulous, as if she shouldn't have been that easy to read.

"Whatever it is that you want to say to me. Spit it out." This was the first mission I'd taken her on since my outburst two nights before. And while I didn't particularly like the idea of having a heart to heart on this dingy rooftop, I knew from personal experience how hard it is to be in top form when you have issues with the person giving the commands. That's where Shepard's open door policy had always had the advantage, and I wanted to continue this tradition with anyone I was planning on leading.

And to my surprise, the team had responded in force.

I'd had several conversations with Jarolan, comparing his tech abilities with Tali's, and sharing stories of her exploits with him.

I'd had a long discussion with Dar about rushing into battles unprepared, especially as a biotic with limited defensive abilities. He was determined to prove himself, but with any luck my tutoring would keep him alive long enough for him and his wife to reap the rewards of doing so.

I'd compared hacking techniques with Chaven, both of us taking from the conversation a healthy improvement to our skills. After several hours of telling stories back and forth about impossible encryptions we'd worked through, he'd wished me goodnight, head tilted left in the batarian sign of admiration.

I'd shared several drinks with Canderous while listening to his adventures in battle and his philosophy on our work. "Assassin. Mercenary. These are names people give guys like me to make us seem better or worse in their eyes." After that evening, he'd been included in every battle strategy I'd ever worked. I'd even wrangled him into a chess match, which had lasted several hours and involved heavy betting by the others. I won the close game, due to a gambit with an overlooked pawn.

But perhaps the strangest conversation had come from Jackson after he'd been with us for a few months…

* * *

" _May I speak with you, Archangel?" The crew has adopted the name much as the people of Omega have. But to them, it was the equivalent of Captain or Commander, an address of respect._

" _Of course." I push away the information I have been studying, reaching up to readjust my eyepiece. "Have a seat…" I motion to the chair opposite my own in the little corner of the warehouse I call my office._

_The human is troubled, that much is obvious. He wears his armor as if it can offer him protection from his demons, his weapons prepared even though it is his downtime. His eyes carry a haunted look I know all too well, the kind my mirror is continually reflecting at me._

" _I feel the time has come to tell you my own story, if you really want to hear it. I appreciate you taking me on faith so far, but I wouldn't want someone at my back for very long when I didn't know their motivations."_

_I nod, steepling my talons as I focus my full attention on the man before me. My detective's curiosity has been piqued since his unexplained and unexpected agreement to join us. The only thing he would say at the time was that it was a matter of 'personal atonement.'_

" _Please continue, Jackson. I always have time for my team."_

_He takes a moment to collect his thoughts, before beginning in a torrent of words as if unable to stop himself._

" _I used to run a gang back on Earth. Nothing special, but we were a family in a way most gangs were not. Us coming together was a way of defending ourselves against the feuding shop-keepers and pimps that threatened most of us on a daily basis. Our motley collection of teenagers was small, but tight-knit enough that no one dared cross us lest they incur the wrath of the group as a whole._

" _And among this small number, there were two people that were dear to my heart. One was a small girl, the replacement in my mind for the sister I'd lost to a drug shootout a few years before. The other was a woman of unsurpassed beauty and fire: Elayne, the love of my life. Under our leadership, Tenth_ _Street became a rare safe haven among the storm, a place of tentative peace."_

_He sighs heavily, lost within his own memories._

" _I should have known it couldn't last, but I never expected things to progress the way they did. A rival gang, unhappy with the perceived competition, sent an overwhelming force to destroy us. They were brutal."_

_His voice has become monotone now, a recitation of facts devoid of emotion. It is a defensive mechanism of trauma victims that I have noticed over the years tends to transcends species and gender._

" _They made me watch as they raped Elayne, passing her from enforcer to enforcer. Every time I found an opportunity to move to stop it, I was horribly beaten until I couldn't move again. I'd almost resigned myself to the situation, until Finch moved for Teandra. I lost it…"_

_I cease to hear him, suddenly recalling why the story sounds so familiar. I have already heard it once before, knew two of the principal players._

" _I guess she was probably about ten at the time, since most of us couldn't tell you our real age. God knows what terrors they put her through. My final reaction incited them into violence, and they beat me ruthlessly and left me for dead. Some days, I wish they'd succeeded. I awoke several weeks later from some kind of coma. Elayne had retreated within herself, and had been locked up in a mental institution. Teandra was Finch's plaything, even kept on a damn leash as part of his efforts to break her. I couldn't get to her, and to this day I'm not even sure if she survived. It eats away at me_

" _This… venture. It's my way of trying to atone for the girls. For being too weak to save them…"_

_His voice falters, breaks, and I thank the spirits for the silence. What are the odds of him being here, now? I'm not a believer in a benevolent higher power guiding us in our day to day lives… but something extraordinary has led him to me in his time of need. I cannot tell him the whole truth, but I can ease his pain in a way no one else in the galaxy probably can after Shepard's death._

" _Thank you for telling me. Now, let me tell you a story, Shep Jackson. A story about the first human Spectre, a woman named Teandra Shepard…"_

* * *

I came back to the present, facing down yet another emotional discussion as Jintah fixed her emerald gaze upon me as she spoke.

"I think, no, _I know_ I owe you an apology."

I'm afraid I turned my glance away from the scope to actually stare at her. She had been throwing herself at me for almost a year now, and not once had she ever allowed herself to seem even slightly ashamed of her actions. My initial reaction was distrust, wondering if this was some new tactic, but I thought I'd give her the benefit of the doubt.

"Okay, I'll bite. For what, Jintah?" I wrestled my attention back to the scope, devoid of activity as it was.

"I have been making a bit of a fool of myself, I think. I'm just not used to rejection. From anyone. I might have taken it as a bit of a challenge."

I hesitated, then tested the waters. "Did you just say a whole sentence to me without making _one_ sexual reference? Spirits be praised!"

She fixed me with a humorless look before responding, "Okay. So I've been an ass. I haven't had a lot of practice working for someone who respects me for my abilities instead of my attributes, so to speak. It's a bit unsettling, but I think I'm willing to give it a shot…

"I can't promise to quit flirting; it's in my nature, but… truce?" It was a question, the closest I'd get to an apology for the turmoil she'd been putting me through. I considered, but the truth of the matter was I liked Jintah's confidence. I just didn't want to bed her. The idea felt too much like a betrayal of another.

"Truce," I finally said, not looking up as I pivoted the rifle, scanning a vehicle that drove by. When it didn't stop, I passed the contraption to Kheron, who resumed it's back and forth movement.

"Jintah, I don't want you to lose that fire. But my heart is taken, for better or worse, by another. It would be unfair to her memory and to any woman for me to pursue something new. Dealing with you has helped bring me to terms with her, and for that I almost thank you. You deserve to have the entire person you're with, and that I could never offer." It was probably the longest speech I'd ever given her. She seemed to digest the words for a moment.

"She must be quite a woman to have captured the Archangel…"

I snorted. "You have no idea. If she knew what you'd been up to, she'd have kicked your ass into unconsciousness, laughing the whole time. She was a warrior who relished a challenge."

I trailed off, and we sat in companionable silence, content in our acceptance of each other as comrades.


	9. Testing the Waters

"All a man needs in life is someone to love... if you can't give him that, give him something to do."

Liddle- _Flight of the Pheonix_

**Chapter 9- Testing the Waters**

"Is everyone in position?" I asked, readjusting the sights on the HMWSR one last time. The responses were immediate.

"Team One: stacked and packed," came Sidonis's low response from the bay doors. "Team two: locked and loaded," came Canderous's gruff voice right afterwards. "Team Three: prepared for covert entry," Kheron informed me.

I hesitated to give the final order, running over everything in my mind once more.

Three days of surveillance had finally paid off when an unregistered delivery vehicle had stopped at the warehouse, unloading several crates marked with the Cerberus logo. One of my informants had tipped me off to the location of the stolen equipment, technology that could easily be sold back to either the corporation, or the highest bidder. It would bring in enough credits to feed, outfit, and arm the team for the next three or four months. And while the idea of a pure mercenary mission didn't particularly appeal to me, it had been a while since I'd pissed Eclipse off. Time to stir the _walar_ 's nest.

The warehouse lay before me, a structure backed on two sides by the walls of the asteroid itself, creating a secure little alcove. It would be easily defensible, in theory, but it also left no escape routes. Outside, two bay doors and a loading dock faced the roadway that passed it before hugging the rock wall. Turning right at the corner of the building exposed you to a small alley that held a small personal entrance to some offices and a maintenance area with several computer servers. The second floor was ringed with windows, but our sniper surveillance had informed us that there was only on the floor above the side entrance was there any access to them from inside. There, several cubicles filled an open area leading to a large office. When they were open, several vantage points had revealed through the large bay doors a jumble of crates and boxes, as well as two staircases (one to the manager's office, one to a balcony that wrapped the second level until meeting the receptionist's desk and spiral staircase from the lower work area). There was also a heavy crane for moving large equipment over the maintenance area walls.

The entire team had been dragged in for this task, a first for our little group. Even Sidonis had been pulled off of his perpetual administrative duties to lend a rifle. This would be a true test of our abilities as a unit, and mine as the leader of such.

There were three teams for the assault. Team one was Sidonis, Jintah, Boomer, Nero, and Nex. They were slated to storm the bay doors, hitting hard and heavy to get the mercs attention. While they were thus preoccupied, a second team would sneak through the side door to the servers and offices. This team, comprised of Canderous, Dar, Chaven, and Jarolan, was meant to hack then corrupt any data they could find. Hopefully Canderous's newly delivered Sokolov X was worth what I paid for it; damn thing was a beast, and the best on the market outside of Spectre gear. I caressed my rifle absently.

Kheron was entering through a second story window at the far end of the back alley, and at the corner of the warehouse, right by the receptionist's desk. She was a powerful enough biotic, if rumors were correct, to stop the infiltration team in its tracks if Kheron failed to subdue her.

Jackson remained at our original sniper post, providing over watch for any escaping mercenaries. He was also testing out the new targeting system we'd received from Ariake Technologies, an Earth based omni-tool manufacturer that was branching out into military tech. This system would allow our group on the inside to identify merc positions, which Jackson would receive via a HUD then use to target through the wall, assuming my old Volkov was powerful enough. It was still experimental, but I'd gotten it dirt cheap in exchange for offering to file a report on how it performed.

My own position was on the second story of the building across from the bay doors. This spot kept me far enough away so I could cover Team One with my sniper fire, but also close enough that I could give ground support if necessary. It had all been planned, discussed, replanned, and debated. We were ready.

"Team Three, you're a go."

"Understood, Archangel."

I continued to listen, talon twitching nervously over the trigger, as the com filled with eerie quiet. Then, there was a sliding sound, followed by a quickly muffled cry as the target was pulled back through the window almost without a single noise. This was closely followed by a sickly popping sound, and a _thud_ as the body was dropped to the ground.

"The target is eliminated," came the drell's cool voice, only seconds after snapping the woman's neck. I let out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. _Step one complete_ , I thought.

"Team One, on my mark… And Boomer, no EMP's. There's delicate tech we're trying to retrieve."

"Damn, that rules out nukes, too," came the disappointed turian's response.

"Wait, you brought nukes? As in _plural_? You know what, nevermind... initiate!"

I averted my eyes as the explosives set on the bay doors detonated, disintegrating them within seconds. As soon as the smoke cleared the five were moving forward, Sidonis and Boomer hugging the right wall for cover and firing as they went. Several resounding explosions told me he'd found time to get off a few grenades from his massive supply as well. Jintah followed closely behind the other two, using her stasis ability on several mercs running for the door, making them nothing more than fodder for my rifle.

The Brash Brothers, having moved left, were holding down the secondary staircase to the upper offices. Everyone was in place.

"Team Two, go."

"Heard and obeyed," came Canderous's response. As I continued to observe the Team One, picking off targets as necessary, I listened to the constant pumping of the shotgun, set in time to very little return fire. "Idiots were watching the firefight. Never knew what hit 'em," Canderous commented. "First floor offices and maintenance clear."

"Data retrieval in progress. It may take some time, Archangel," Jarolan stated, "Stall the mercs if you can."

I refocused my sights through the second story windows, noting a sniper moving into position near the door leading to the offices. I began to squeeze the trigger when a blur of motion caused me to hesitate: Kheron, putting his exemplary skills to use. The target fell.

"That was mine, drell…" I muttered, realizing belatedly my com was still on.

"My apologies, Archangel. May I suggest you shoot faster next time?" came the sardonic voice. With an intake of breath, I took out the next sniper moving up the balcony as Kheron moved towards him.

"As you wish," I said, switching back to the bay doors, "Jintah, identify target."

" _Kurat!_ Archangel," I almost laughed at her response, a momentary lapse into turian basic training battle cries. Things were going well. Too well, in fact. Shepard's Murphy was sure to rear his head before long. As if in defiance of that thought, though, I heard the crack of a Volkov, then Jintah say, "Target down." The system worked, apparently.

A trip-hammer series of shots over the com alerted me that Canderous was having fun again as well. "Second floor offices clear. Main office empty."

"All relevant data has been retrieved and the virus uploaded, Archangel," Chaven's gravelly voice informed me.

"Excellent…" I trailed off as I watched the drell use the crane to make his way to the ground, seeming to free fall until his feet touched down. _Show off_ …

"Kheron, hold on the last kill. Jintah, freeze him…" Both orders were obeyed without question. I moved out of my position towards the warehouse, shaking my head minutely as I adjusted to eyesight without a scope. "Jackson, keep watch. Let us know if we have any company. We need to find the tech."

I entered the warehouse, the smoke from the weapons fire and grenades catching in my nostrils, causing me to cough slightly. A crate in the back corner caught my eye, Cerberus logo emblazoned in gold.

"Nex, Nero, grab it and load it onto the transport… Team Two, pull out and confirm when you're clear."

"Affirmative."

I approached our captive, wondering exactly what I planned to do with him. Then I knew. The mercs weren't scared yet. It was time.

The salarian was in the standard yellow armor worn by all eclipse, and if his frozen expression was any indication, was scared out of his mind. I drew everything predatory out of my nature, allowing it to seethe through as I spoke to him.

"This was the warning shot. Only the beginning. Tell your boss to get off Omega while he can." I signaled to Jintah and Kheron, who released his stasis and knocked him out.

"Sidonis, status report…" The silence was as deafening as the earlier grenades had been. "Sidonis?" There was a trace of panic in my voice as I scanned the warehouse, finally fixing my gaze on the slumped blue form in the corner by the staircase. Abandoning all pretense of calm, I ran to him, kneeling to check his suit for vital signs.

"Dammit, Lantar, I didn't give you permission to fucking die on me…"

His lack of response, body limp against my armor, was one of the most heart-wrenching noises of my life.


	10. Recovery

**"** _Guilt is the price we pay willingly for doing what we were going to do anyway."_

Isabelle Holland

**Chapter 10- Recovery**

Our journey through the Omega Slums was almost a complete blur as we made our way to the only man I would trust with Lantar's life: Dr. Mordin Solus. The salarian had gained quite a following over the last few months, proving both his prowess as a Doctor to the people of Omega and as a warrior to the mercenaries that tried to shut him down. He was the best medical professional to be found on on this hell-hole station. I only hoped he would see us, since he usually reserved his skills for those NOT inclined towards bloodshed.

We had rigged a makeshift stretcher from some broken crates, taking our transport as far as the entrance to the Slums. But we had to walk the last part of it. I sent the rest of the crew back to the warehouse, taking Kheron and Jintah with me to help move the stretcher.

I _would not_ lose one of my soldiers. And I couldn't even entertain the thought of losing my brother and friend. Not after so many others: Shepard, Mishta, even my parents in their own way. It was unacceptable.

We arrived to a full waiting room, and I approached the clerks in desperation. The humans took in my armor, blue spatters of Sidonis's blood still drying in places, and greeted us warily. Calming myself as best I could, I tried to remain clinical as I described his injuries, nodding towards the makeshift stretcher. "Neck wound. Heavy bleeding, though we've slowed it with medi-gel and a pressure bandage. His vital signs aren't good though…" The pair was already moving, bustling my partners out of the way in order to get to the patient.

 _The patient_ I had called him. Did I have so little faith in his chances of survival I was detaching myself already? But I'd seen more than my share of combat wounds, both in the military and in my police work, and I knew his injury was a bad one. But I chided myself for my doubt anyway. _Lantar_ was going to make it, damn it.

I felt like a failure to both my friend and my team. Sure, we'd accomplished the mission. Yeah, casualties were a hazard of warfare. But a tight knit team should be able to overcome those odds. _I should have trained harder, waited longer to pull a full operation…_

They moved Lantar to a rolling gurney, already beginning to connect him to a variety of wires and tubes that gave him a macabre appearance. The sharp scent of cleaner and sickness assaulted my nostrils, and for the first time I really took in my surroundings, the state of the people around us and the way we must have appeared to them.

I looked down at my talons, at the actual blood that covered the metaphorical, and barely made it out the door before I began retching. What little breakfast I had eaten came up, and still my body continued to dry heave in an attempt to expel the guilt and self-hatred clenching my gut. A cool sensation on the back of my neck brought relief, even as a wet towel was pressed into my shaking talons.

"Are you okay?" A voice asked, both familiar but unimportant at the moment. I was already lost within my memories.

* * *

" _Are you okay?" I ask the still form, having once again overridden the locking mechanism on her door. It has been two days since Virmire, and Teandra hasn't left her room. She is kneeling on the bed facing the wall, fists uncurled and resting lightly upon a pillow that has already suffered more than its share of violence. She doesn't answer immediately, only throws herself face-first into the makeshift punching bag._

" _Go_ _ **away**_ _Garrus! That's a_ _ **fucking order**_ _."_

" _Never been good at taking orders. One of the reasons I left C-Sec, remember?" I sit on the bunk next to her, and she pulls to the far side of the mattress, head still buried._

" _Hey, the crew voted. You get me or Kaidan. Want me to go get him?" She shakes her head violently, not speaking._

" _Do you_ _ **really**_ _want me to leave?" Another mute shake. "Then tell me how to help."_

_My mind is in turmoil, concerned about my friend and in horror at the decision she's had to make. Ashley was a member of the crew, but we'd never been close. Shepard and the other females, however, had bonded in the way only females and soldiers seem to be able to: quickly. The motley sisterhood had been known to send the rest of us scrambling for cover when they set their sights on something. To lose even one…_

" _I fucking had to sacrifice one of my people to save another. There's no way to **rationalize** that. Logically, I know it was the best tactical decision, but I should have been able to save them both... You can tell me I did the right thing, but it sure as hell feels wrong." It strikes me how young she really is at that moment, in spite of everything she's been through and everything on her shoulders. She has mentioned before that she thinks she was born around the time of the Relay 314 Incident, as close as any true orphan can guess, and having seen her many sides I wonder if it had been an omen of change for my species. It certainly had been one for me._

_I struggle with the words, trying to figure out what I can say that will bring my point home, to share my experience as a soldier._

" _And had you gone after Ashley, and left Alenko with the bomb, who would have stopped Saren from destroying it? And we both know Captain Kirrahe wouldn't have made it out without Ash's help. Cut the drivel long enough to analyze your actions as a Commander, Teandra."_

_I await the inevitable reprimand that must follow such harsh words, but all she says is, "I can't sleep." She turns on her side, looking at me for the first time since I entered the room. Her blue eyes are bloodshot, though from lack of rest or tears I'm not sure. "Every time I close my eyes I see them: Ash, Jenkins, the girls I couldn't save from Finch, the unit I lost on Akuze. I know its part of the job, but when does it stop hurting, Garrus?"_

" _I'm not sure. But I would imagine the answer is the day you stop caring. And that would be a sad day." I lay down facing her, absently stroking her hair as I continue. A small sigh of contentment, almost unheard, escapes her._

" _You can't change the past. You can only live for the future, try to make those sacrifices mean something. None of us would hesitate to give ourselves for this mission."_

" _I know that, I just… you're right. I know you're right." She shuts her eyes tiredly as I continue letting her hair flow through my talons. "Can you just keep talking? Your voice is so soothing right now…" She yawns, curling into a ball._

_I think for a moment. "Hmmm… how about I tell you the story of the time the emergency call went out to locate a visiting asari ambassador. Two days of fruitless searching brought us to the Palazar Hotel, where he found ourselves hard-pressed not to laugh at her predicament, laying on the bed handcuffed to the posts…"_

_A soft snore interrupts me, and I breathe easier knowing she is on the way to recovery. As I move to get up, a small whine escapes her. She moves closer, snuggling into the warmth of my chest much as she had the pillow. Sighing, I reposition, resigning myself to at least a few more hours here. I console myself by allowing my talons to resume playing with her hair. If she wakes up my Teandra again, it will be an evening well spent._

* * *

"Archangel. Wake up. We can see him now." I open my eyes, idly wondering where I am and still feeling the soft rasp of her hair flowing across my palms. I shake off the memory, more like a dream, and allow myself to remember the events of the day. Scrambling up from the row of chairs I had been occupying, I seize upon the phrase, "We can see him." He's _alive_.

Following Jintah down a close hallway, we stop at a closed side door, where we are greeted by a salarian that promptly blocked our entry.

"Dr. Mordin Solus, I presume?" I then snorted quietly as I realized the phrasing I had used, something Shepard had said to me more than a few times after jokingly calling me the 'Sherlock Holmes of turians'.

"Assumption is correct. Reference to human literary canon, untimely. Must speak with you regarding patient."

We move farther down the hallway, out of earshot of the most likely sleeping turian. The Doctor continued.

"Patient physiology displays signs of recent trauma. Personal in nature, most likely."

"He lost his wife a couple of years ago, and his unborn son, if that's what you mean."

"Explanation acceptable. Am concerned about mental state, however." The salarian hesitated and blinked, then continued, "Acute Stress Disorder most likely. Post-traumatic stress disorder possible. Natural response to dangerous situations. May cause detachment or irrational response to loss of life."

"Trust me Doctor; I wasn't planning on taking him on any missions anyway."

"Acceptable. May take time to fully heal mind and body."

"We'll keep and eye on him, Doc. Promise," Jintah interjected, and I pitied Sidonis if she were in charge of his care. It gave her a whole new use for her stasis ability. "Can we see him now?"

"May take him home. Stable. But no strenuous activity." He moved away before I could thank him, already picking up two or three new conversations.

We entered the room, and I approached Lantar's sleeping form. The noise must have woken him, however, because he opened his eyes and croaked, "Hey, brother. Heard we won."

I grinned, mandibles flaring, and said, "How ya feeling?"

"Like I just got hit on the head by a rampaging _shatha_ _._ Twice. But other than that…" He shifted uncomfortably.

"You ready to get the hell out of here?"

He started to nod, and then winced.

"Hey, _ben'jee_ , you've got a big hole in your neck, remember?" Jintah teased, moving forward to help him stand up without jostling his bandages too much.

"I'll radio for the crew to send a transport. Let's get you home." We started moving towards the door, his face awash with relief and contentment.

"Home," he said, as if tasting the word, "I like the way you say that, Archangel."


	11. Distraction

_"The question is not how far we plan to go. The question is, do you possess the constitution, the depth of faith, to go as far as needed."_

_Il Duce -_ The Boondock Saints

**Chapter 11- Distraction**

I sighted down the scope, breathing evenly to steady it, as my visor calculated trajectories. The Blood Pack base across the street was bustling, a flurry of activity following the run they'd just completed, for once unaccosted by the "Archangel."

I flared my mandibles in an evil smile, waiting ever so patiently for the crowds to disperse. Allowing them to succeed had been a small price to pay to create a path to my present goal: Garm. The krogan was quickly becoming a nuisance.

It had been four months since the raid on the Eclipse warehouse, and we had increased our disruptions to the mercenaries' daily business exponentially. Now, not a week went by that several such operations weren't interrupted, either by the group as a whole or in small teams. Eclipse had reduced their smuggling activities, the Blood Pack was keeping a low profile most of the time, and even the Blue Suns were becoming increasingly paranoid as I used my informant network to obliterate every chance they had to do business. But it wasn't enough; would never be enough.

Sidonis was recovering slowly. His physical injuries, while extensive, were nothing compared to his emotional stress and anxiety levels. It was disconcerting and astounding; to see the man I had watched charge into countless battles with reckless abandon reduced to mood swings and fits of rage. There were even times when he would stare at nothing for hours, and while I tried to be understanding of the change, I couldn't truly comprehend it. Jintah, on the other hand, had become his long-suffering and constant companion when not on missions. In a way, I envied her. The way she had taken full responsibility for his recovery was heartwarming, and a strong contrast to my own actions.

Blaming myself didn't even _begin_ to cover how I felt about the situation. I hadn't been giving everything to the team, and I had to do better. No excuses. And as much as I hated to admit it, memories of Shepard were a distraction I didn't have the luxury of indulging in any more. But cutting off the emotion had not been simple, and there were darker aspects of myself that had been buried deep under her influence that were beginning to resurface. Regardless, the war had to end before anyone else got hurt, and there was one surefire way to accomplish that.

I had already planned the three tactical assassinations on the three main oppositions to peace on Omega. Garm had the honor and privilege of being the first, as he was the one I deemed the most difficult. I had excellent intel that he tended to remain in this particular building after the departure of his men after every successful operation. And the three bounties they had pulled in tonight, at half a million credits apiece, should count as one if anything did. I felt a momentary twinge on my conscience for the lives of those men, but with that kind of money on their heads it was only a matter of time. Shepard wouldn't have approved, but she wasn't here.

Noting the steady stream of armored krogan and vorcha making their way from the building, more than one already a little tipsy from celebrating, I secured my HMWSR and moved towards the stairs. Moving out the door, I immediately melted into the shadows, silently making my way across the distance that separated the buildings. Listening intently, I heard nothing other than silence for several minutes.

Movement to my left caught my attention, and I faded into a particularly thick patch of darkness as a roving vorcha approached. The stench of the creature overwhelmed me, and I almost gagged as I approached from behind him, completely unnoticed. Springing forward, I shoved him to the ground, pinning him with one knee as I used both claws to snap his neck. Dragging the body into my recent concealment, I continued towards the little used back door. Another vorcha stood watch there, and I dispatched him with a single sharp talon across the throat, rendering him unable to cry for help as he struggled for air.

 _Spirits, these solo missions are so much easier,_ the predator within me commented, _no moral dilemmas here._

The door opened on quiet hinges, thankfully, but the emergency lights only dimly revealed the stairwell before me. An eerie silence enveloped me, comforting in its assurance that I was alone. The building seemed empty, but I knew I hadn't seen Garm leave. Was it even possible that I might find him completely alone? It was almost too good to be true.

I moved up the metal staircase to the third floor, ending in a hallway that the stolen blueprints had indicated housed several offices, one of them Garm's. The silence was now permeated by noises I would never have expected to hear, but served to explain the krogan's solitude. Creeping forward, I followed the flickering light coming through a small window, revealing my quarry. Apparently, if the moans that were issuing from the live feed he was watching were any indication, he liked his women to be of the asari variety. Praying that the show she was giving him would occupy him a little longer, I pulled my Kovalyov and checked the heat sink. It was a dirty way to do things, but I wasn't taking any chances.

Stepping back and bracing myself, I kicked in the door, sending it flying into the wall still on its hinges. Simultaneously, I opened fire, riddling Garm with bullets until the weapon overheated. The inertia of the spray sent his body backwards, and I waited calmly for the weapon to cool. The noises over the monitor became frantic, and I shot the vid screen with a three round burst.

_That's enough of that noise…_

Moving up, I kicked the krogan's still armored hip, thanking the spirits that I hadn't been a few minutes later. He didn't appear to be breathing, and I had already moved closer before I noticed my visor scrolling the information _quickened heart rate…_

_Shit…_

I couldn't even react before, with an ear-splitting roar, the krogan launched himself from the floor and tackled me. It was clumsy, though, and that saved me from taking the brunt of the blow. His anger was evident, and I had the wry though of _'Maybe I should have let him finish,'_ as I regained my feet and opened fire once more. He shook the rounds off like water, even the ones that penetrated his shields. Picking up the desk containing the shattered monitor, he threw it and caught me square in the chest, knocking the wind out of me as I hit the wall. Firing blindly, I kept the krogan at bay as I caught my breath.

Realizing belatedly that his size gave him a distinct advantage in the cramped office, I ducked through the doorway to the slightly more open hallway. Unfortunately, this gave him time to retrieve an Armageddon from the fallen desk, which he armed as he came around the doorframe. I cursed, throwing myself into a door to my left and hitting the ground, as the wall between my target and I disintegrated into a shower of plaster from the cluster shot.

 _So… shotguns it is then_. I swapped my assault rifle for the Sokolov, thankful I'd had the foresight to borrow it from Canderous. I pumped a round through the wall, buying myself some breathing room.

"Why the fuck aren't you dead yet?" I hadn't meant to say it aloud, but my disbelief was overpowering. _No one_ should be able to take so much damage almost without a scratch. I heard a deep, evil laugh from somewhere to the right of the door, and used it to line up another shot.

"It's called regeneration, turian, and it's the reason your people could never wipe us out…" I fired, a strangled cry telling me the shots still physically hurt him, at least.

I looked around the room, desperate for anything that would get me out of the corner I'd trapped myself in, and finding nothing but a few chairs shoved into a corner. _Storage room_ … I scanned the walls, eyes coming to rest on the window. It was worth a shot.

"So, are you gonna come get me, or don't you have the quad?" I positioned myself in front of the window as I spoke, gave my shields an extra boost, and hoped his rage would overpower his good sense.

For a moment, I didn't think he'd take the bait. But a sudden battle cry warned me as he launched himself around the corner, firing as he charged. I dodged, and his momentum carried him through the window pane, aided by a swift kick to his back as he passed.

Knowing the fall probably wouldn't kill him, I moved to the window, then jumped down and fired more rounds into him as I fell. I was rewarded by a harsh grunt as I used his stomach as a landing pad, pointing the shotgun at his head.

"Regenerate this, asshole." I started to pull the trigger, savoring the look of inevitability in his eyes, when a shot ricocheted to my left. I looked up, taking in the group of ten or so Blood Pack vorcha approaching from down the road. _Reinforcements… damn._

I was tempted to take the shot anyway, but knew that would be suicide. Fear of hitting their boss was all that was keeping me alive. Looking around, I noticed an alley three steps to my right. Once again boosting my shields, I dashed for it, and my time became filled with running footsteps.

* * *

Air… years of traveling in the vacuum of space never made me appreciate it as much as that run did. I focused on remembering every little used backstreet I'd ever explored, hoping not so much to elude my pursuers as to avoid hitting a dead end. The name might be too appropriate if I did.

_Breathe… think…_

My body became a vessel of speed and precision, taking corners as I attempted to outmaneuver and outrun my pursuers. Turning a corner, I moved down the alley a ways before tossing a grenade over my shoulder.  Increasing my speed as rounds began to ricochet across the stones of the building to my left, I dodged down the next open path as I was rewarded by screams of pain from my closest enemy. I moved down another side alley, jumping a fence and ducking through a doorway on the other side, closing it just as rushed footsteps and the smell of charred flesh passed the door. I schooled my breathing, hoping they would bypass my hiding place.

A solitary set of footsteps slowed, and I mentally cursed. Pulling my silenced Karpov, I readied it, knowing if it were Garm I was out of luck. I held my breath… and the footsteps walked away. I slumped down the wall, pistol resting on my knee. 

_So... what the hell do I do now?_


	12. Chooser of the Slain

_"I take it to the edge_  
_I do it till it bleeds_  
_I push it to the limit_  
_I ain't ever gonna sleep_

  
_I'm dying for a fight_  
_I'm living on the run_  
_'Cause it's hard to see the light_  
_Down the barrel of a gun"_  
  
"Like a Nightmare" - _Never Say Die_

**Chapter 12- Chooser of the Slain**

The noise that met me as I approached our base was not one I would ever have expected: multiple voices raised in boisterous laughter. Picking up my pace and wondering what was wrong, I entered the lower level to be greeted by the voice of a turian on the vid screen, "I may be drunk, krogan, but you're ugly. And tomorrow I'll be sober." The group that was strewn about buried in various projects laughed, and I recalled when Wrex had once been thrown that line by General Septimus.

 _Great. It would have to be this movie, wouldn't it?_ With failure dogging my footsteps, _The Krogan Emissary_ was not on the top of my list of things to watch. Too lighthearted; too much mindless comedy. My thoughts were reasonably dark, and not ready to entertain it at that moment. Besides, it's just one more thing filed under "Shepard Related." A distraction and a gratification.

I crossed behind them all to my office on the left, actively forcing the woman out of my head as I reconsidered the last mission. Jintah caught my eye, and I signaled to her to give me ten minutes. She nodded, fringe jingling slightly as the gold bands that newly decorated them rang against each other. I just needed time to think, and to consider what had gone wrong. I collapsed in my chair, muscles limp.

I'd had him. I had been _so damn close_ I could smell the hot metal of the shot that should have disintegrated his brain tissue. If his vorcha hadn't shown up, or if his regeneration hadn't been so insanely fast, I'd be telling myself _one down and two to go_. But on the other side, I knew Garm was scared now. He knew my name, or would before long, and this served my overall purpose for the assassinations. I wasn't naive enough to think that taking off the head of the beasts would kill them. New leaders would always rise up in their place. They had to fear the Archangel; to see him as the reaper come to claim their souls for their misdeeds.

The problem is that I had let things get personal, trying to take Garm face to face. Personal leads to sloppy, and I abhorred sloppy. I wouldn't make the same mistake with Tarak and Jaroth. My plans for them had originally been a clean-cut bullet to the head, but something about the last mission was changing that way of thinking.

I pulled up the file on Tarak, seeking the information I needed. _Yep, there it is._ It would take a month or so to get this particular set of blueprints, I knew, and cost me a small fortune, but…

My thoughts were interrupted by Jintah and Jackson entering my office area. Steepling my talons as I looked at them, no small amount of effort went into sounding positive as I said, "He's still alive. But so am I. No point dwelling."

They both nodded, used to taking my orders without question, and I allowed myself a small pang for the barrage of questions Sidonis would have assaulted me with. Our interactions were brief and pain-laced anymore, our friendship on edge as he tried to cope with his sorrow and experiences. The pair had taken over his administrative duties indefinitely while he recuperated, but it just wasn't the same.

"Well, there's some good news, at least," Jintah said, "Cerberus finally paid us for that tech we recovered a couple of months back."

"Took 'em long enough. What impossible demand did they make this time?" They'd offered us an exorbitant price for the shipment, well over three times what we could get anywhere else, but had showered us with unusual demands to secure it.

"They offered another half-million credits to give them your name," Jackson broke in, "Like we'd ever tell. I think the exact phrase Jintah gave them was, 'His name is Fuck You, now where's our money…'" Okay, so _some_ things _never_ changed.

"Make note to keep an eye on them. I've faced off against them before, and they're ruthless. No telling what they're planning on using all that information for," Jintah tapped on the datapad as I went on, "Anything else I need to know?"

"Besides that the Brash Brothers are still pissed as hell you didn't take them along? Nope."

I rolled my eyes. "They know my reasoning. Let them know I've got a new and fun assignment coming up next month. There's a huge smuggling run going on at the Eclipse Warehouse. All the heads of the Eclipse Omega Branch will be there. We're going in hard and dirty, and don't tell me that they won't appreciate the freedom to destroy everything in sight."

"Yes, that should placate them, especially since Garm's still alive," Jackson commented.

"Don't remind me…"

"So that takes care of two of those assholes, but what about Tarak?" Jintah asked.

I laughed evilly. "Him? Oh, I have something _special_ planned for him…"

* * *

Another solo mission, another chance to let the shadow prevail as I set my mind to the task before me. I didn't have the luxury of stopping to think too clearly, or I might begin to doubt my own plans.

No fancy moves here, though, as I approached the gate to Tarak's home, dual shots from my suppressed Karpov taking down both guards. The noise would be lost among the nighttime din of Omega, and I was in a hurry, after all. I silently jumped the fence before becoming one with the shadows, observing the house before me.

Considering the importance of the man who owned it, the outside of the home itself had little fortifications. As you moved around the right side of the house towards the second story window that led to Tarak's room, though, you were faced with a former turian Special Forces operative, as well as a plethora of traps should you manage to disarm him. The obstacles to get to Tarak were nearly insurmountable.

But I wasn't trying to reach Tarak.

I moved left, making for the front of the house. The roving guard was no more than a passing nod at security, really, and his focus was the side of the house where Tarak lay. And besides, who would dare piss off one of the most powerful men on Omega? That would be suicide.

As the turian turned to move towards me, and I once again melded with the darkness, all too aware of how metaphorical that statement was considering the nature of the mission. I remained unnoticed, and quietly I turned and overrode the window lock, the mechanism responding with a quiet _whoosh_.

Watching my step as I entered, I dodged a few random toys on the floor, eyes trained on my target.

A small batarian girl, probably no more than ten, lay asleep on the bed clutching a stuffed varren. I checked my omni-tool: three minutes until the guard returned. Plenty of time to service the target and make my escape.

I trained my pistol in front of me, talon across the trigger as I moved forward to point blank range. Small, quiet snores were the only sound in the room.

 _One bullet and it'll all be over_... but my hand was shaking. Why was it shaking? This course of action would secure our superiority over Tarak; over the Blue Suns. The ends justified the means. That's the way it had to be... the child snorted in her sleep, the sound causing me to jump.

Two minutes. Shepard's voice invaded my head, _She's just a little girl, Garrus_.

"Get out of my head, little Spectre," I growled softly, "you have no place in my world anymore." Gripping the pistol more firmly, I double checked the safety. Once again I laid my talon across the trigger. Tarak had, and would, continue to kill hundreds of children just like this one.

"You don't have to stoop to his level, Garrus," her soft voice invaded again, an echo of her words concerning Saren.

_**Get out of my head, Shepard!** _

Once again, I laid hand to the gun, and fired.


	13. The Faded Line

" _And on the wings of a dream so far beyond reality_  
_All alone in desperation, now that time has come_  
_Lost inside you'll never find, lost within my own mind_  
_Day after day this misery must go on_

_Now here we stand with their blood on our hands…"_

_Through the Fire and the Flames -_ Dragonforce

**Chapter 13- The Faded Line**

I paced my office, talons balled into fists as I considered my recent decision.

This side of me was always easier to fight under her influence; that thin line between personal justice and playing god. But sometimes there were jobs that _had_ to be accomplished, and talking had never been my strong suit. I had never questioned my beliefs before, and in that moment, there was a large part of me that wished Teandra Shepard had never entered my life. Without her memory, there was no guilt, pain, or hesitation. The world faded to black and white, good and evil...

My door opened, and in walked the last man I wanted to see in my current state of mind.

"Tell me you didn't do it." His voice was a study in a quiet anger, barely controlled, and every one of his muscles was tensed for a fight. I took in the image he portrayed, realizing for the first time in months he looked like the warrior I once knew.

Sidonis looked ready to kill, but I wasn't in the mood to deal with another one of his PTSD episodes. Not today. "Tell me you didn't kill an innocent child just to destroy her father."

"Does it really matter, Lantar? Really?"

He stared at me, dumbfounded. "Who ARE you? You sure as hell aren't anyone I know, Garrus. These tactics aren't you," he hesitated, then went on with venom in his voice, "Mishta would hate you right now."

Something within me snapped at her name, so innocent and taken so early; one of so many people I'd lost. My response was detached but calculated so as to wound.

"Yeah, well, she's dead isn't she? Mom, Shelaya, Mishta… They _all_ left me to fend for myself, and here's what they get for their pains. I _will_ end this street war at any cost. I _will_ make these mercenaries fear me. And I _will_ keep my team alive no matter what it takes."

Every word seemed to cause him to recoil a little more, to draw within himself. A small voice in my head screamed for me to stop, but I silenced her with indifference.

"And Teandra? What would she think?" He spoke heatedly, as if the entire conversation was confirming exactly what he believed me to have done.

" **I do not care** _ **.**_ She left me. Her lessons didn't save her life, so why would I trust mine to them? If she wants to save me from the darkness, then maybe death won't be enough to keep her from rescuing me herself."

Sidonis looked at me, sadness and defeat evident in his posture and face, "Becoming this won't bring her back. Neither will hating her. Trust me, I know."

I hesitated slightly at his words, saying, "I'm sorry. But it's all I have left now. All I'll ever have..." I shook my head in disgust at the whole damn situation, at his complete and total lack of faith in me. Stalking past him in fury, I still felt every bit the asshole I had become.

Pausing at the door, I wondered whether to tell him the truth, whether to assuage his anger and distrust. And yet… _Fuck that_ , _No. It's his fault for making assumptions._ As I walked off, the frightened face of the little girl as she stared at the smoking hole in her pillow haunted my consciousness. _I haven't sunk that low yet, Lantar,_ I thought. _Not yet._

* * *

"I repeat, do not detonate until I have the target in sight. Do you copy?"

There was a moment of silence, followed by Boomer's petulant reply, "You're no fun, Archangel. But I copy."

I sighed. Another six weeks. Time passes so quickly when you don't waste it agonizing over every decision you make or word you utter. More missions, more gunfire, more disruptions. The Blue Suns had become an especially fun target after the night I left a hole in that little girl's pillow, the terror over how close Tarak had come to losing her making his moves desperate. It also made them easy to evade and counter, and I have never been one to let a stupid move go unpunished. Since that night, the mercenaries hadn't had _one_ successful venture, and it was only a matter of time before we wiped them out completely. _Still,_ I reflected, _he'd have been even more flustered if there had been a funeral._ That single thought brought that annoying voice back to the forefront, but quieter now, so quiet I couldn't even determine her words. It was just a low buzz in the deepest parts of my brain.

Today's targets, however, weren't children; I had no doubts about their demise.

The top brass of Eclipse were gathering to protect a huge smuggling run. As in multi-billion credit endeavor that had been planned for over a year, long before anyone had taken the Archangel seriously. It gave them a measure of protection to have so much of the leadership present. But it also made them an irresistible target, former STG and Special Forces members notwithstanding.

"Still awaiting primary targets…" Not leaving anything to chance, I was awaiting Jaroth's arrival at the base personally. No matter what targets we took down today, he was my primary. It would be a sniper round in front of all his gathered troops that would end his operations on Omega for good. That way, if anyone survived the blast that was to follow, they would still live in fear of my rifle. And by the Spirits, they would _all_ fear me before it was over.

We had done a skirmish on the base a week before, nothing more than an excuse for the Brash Brothers to kill untold numbers and discreetly place the bomb where it wouldn't be found. The untraceable device had taken Jarolan and Chaven (with much unwanted input from Boomer about how to increase the power and blast radius) weeks to build and design. Despite the frustration over all the time it took to create it was an awesome example of how prior planning could help offset disaster. It kept the team out of the line of fire, and that made me happy. We hadn't had a serious injury since Sidonis, but I wasn't naïve enough to believe that was luck. Only excellent forethought could provide that sort of track record.

Motion in the scope caught my attention, and I watched as an uncovered vehicle moved towards the base, exposing its passengers for the entire world to see.

 _It_ _ **can't**_ _be that easy, can it? Really?_ Jaroth was in my scope, in my sights. Calming my adrenal response, I waited for the vehicle to slow, barking orders.

"Prepare for detonation, on my order." There were two other people in the vehicle, one a turian and one a salarian, both dressed as honor guards. _Hold on a second…_

The second salarian set off alarm bells in my head. Recalling our lists of primary targets… _No fucking way. No way were they stupid enough to put their Second-in-Command in the same vehicle as his direct superior._ Killing them would be a "favor to the universe," as Wrex had put it once. I lined up the shot, sights on Jaroth.

"Detonate."

Boomer's delighted reply was "Ooh, goody…" as he carried out the order.

The explosion rocked the building I was posted on ten blocks away. _How much damn material did they use?_ Then I remembered that Boomer had been on the delivery team. Snickering as I repositioned my sights, I realized he must have added a little "extra" for good measure. Refocusing, I brought my sights back to Jaroth.

Both he and his companions had been thrown from the vehicle, and the other two were now covering him, unsure if there would be more bloodshed. The turian and Joran, the Second-in-Command, were directly between me and my target. _Casualties of war…_

I breathed out and waited on my pulse to beat, knowing at this distance even that small nuance in my aim could alter the shot. I fired, and the shot rang true. The HMWSR recoiled in my hands, but not enough to keep me from seeing first blue then green blood spatter in all directions. The turian dropped, as did Joran, before I saw Jaroth stagger from his own wound.

Only a _fucking_ wound.

The armor of the first two had slowed the bullet enough to keep it from being a lethal blow. Realizing where the true danger now lie, I saw hatred and fear come over Jaroth's face as he mouthed the words, "Damn you, Archangel," before ducking behind the overturned vehicle. He knew I was after him now, and _I_ knew I wouldn't get another shot. And yet… I'd accomplished my goal. Jaroth _was_ the only survivor, after all. His whole world had just crashed down before his eyes. I _doubted_ he'd be bothering us anytime soon.

* * *

"Archangel, did it ever occur to you that this whole thing might be a bit of a house in the Invictus jungle?" Sidonis asked, all pretense of respect gone. "You've managed to personally insult the three most ruthless mercenary groups in the universe."

Sighing, I looked up from my desk at him, seeing his head popped through the partially opened doorway.

"You backing out on me, soldier? Cause you and I both know the people of Omega need these mercenaries gone."

"And what happens if they retaliate?"

"There aren't enough of them left to do it. What could they possibly do to stop us now? They have no clue who or where we are, after all. We're ghosts. The only people who could provide that information are in this building."

His face hardened a moment, as if he were about to say something, then he stopped. "If you say so, Vakarian. I hope you're right about them. I really do." He then pulled out of the room. _It's almost over now,_ I thought numbly, _One way or another, it's almost over._


	14. Requiem

" _Everyone makes choices in life. Some bad, some good. It's called living, and if you want to bow out then go right ahead. But don't do it halfway. Don't linger in whiner's limbo."_

Valek - _Poison Study_

**Chapter 14- Requiem**

"We fought them, Archangel. We fought hard."

"I know, soldier, I know." There was so much blood, so much… I knew there'd be no saving her. The damage had already been done. I glanced at the bodies around me. The ten fallen warriors. _My_ warriors.

_Ten…_

"Where's Sidonis, Jintah? Did they take him?"

She coughed, a wracking sound that made me cringe as I recalled battlefield triage tents and the cries of the dying.

"He left before they hit us. I'm glad he wasn't here. Glad there's someone left to help you carry on the fight…" Another bout of coughing shook her, slowly pulling at her remaining energy.

"When you see him, tell him something for me. Tell him I…" A harsh, ragged breath was all she could expel as the life drained from her body, eyes going distant. The realization that she had grown to love him hit me with the force of a falling star. I wasn't sure at what point she had moved from caretaker to something more, at what point her feelings had progressed, but I was glad she had something to cling to here at the end. Someone to comfort her.

"May your lifeforce become one with the spirits, _al kalita da suta."_ _May you fly with the wind_. The ritual parting between warriors fell from my tongue almost instinctively, rage overcoming the sorrow.

Damnit. _NO._ I gently laid her upon the ground, cursing whatever power had taken her from the world so early, and on the cusp of her revelations.

How could this have happened? How could they have found us? The sound of more intermittent breathing caught my attention. Forcing myself to stand, I spared one last look for the girl, then I began to methodically check each of their vital signs as my mind raced.

My clothing was already a prismatic array of color from the blood of so many. Images, unreal yet arresting, flashed in front on me as if I were seeing it on screen instead of at my feet.

Boomer, hand still clutching a flash grenade in some form of a cosmic joke.

Jarolan, face downward as if he were merely asleep, something that was a sure indication of his demise since rest was something he abhorred.

Kheron, body riddled with holes from bullets of multiple calibers, as if even after his final breath his enemies wanted to make sure he was dead.

Chaven, bloody arms thrown over his head in a last ditch attempt to hold off the bullets.

Canderous, a look of grim determination on his face, the Sokolov a mangled mass within his hands from a round it had taken in the heat sink.

Nero, fallen in front of Dar, as if the two had been protecting each other as the last of the enemies had moved to close in.

Their faces… they would haunt me forever.

" _How long 'til it stops hurting, Garrus?"_

I had tried not to care, tried to detach myself from any emotion, all the while trying not to succumb to the darkness that would change me… I had _failed_ , had betrayed them, and now they were dead.

Nine brothers. One sister. My family and my creation. Gone within a single battle, almost within the blink of an eye.

I thought of Dar's wife Nahla; of Chaven's grown son he'd never spoken to; of Elayne lost within herself somewhere. They would never have the chance to say goodbye, to set things right, to fix their lives

How could I _bear_ this? I couldn't continue. I couldn't…

" _You backing out on me, soldier?"_

My own words were a mockery of everything I'd ever done, of all the pain and guilt. I had criticized Lantar for his suspicions of something like this happening, and he'd been right. A new realization began to worm its way into my brain, though, as something else I had said came to mind.

_The only people who could provide that information are in this building…_

And now only one of those people remained. That couldn't be a coincidence. That train of thought was interrupted as I came upon the source of the breathing, revealing Jackson half hidden under Nex's limp form. It looked as if the krogan had taken the bullets meant for the human, but had undone all his efforts as he fell upon him in his death throes. Jackson still had a pulse, but only just, and it was fading. A shock of red-brown caught my eye, and I stared in horror at the message he had left me in his own blood, at the words _I atoned_.

Is that what it took? A death? A sacrifice to the gods of hubris? I drew my Karpov, intent on ending my own life, but Teandra's memory interrupted me once again. Humbled and beaten as I was, I succumbed willingly for the first time since Sidonis's injury, wrapping myself in the embrace of her teachings and her love.

 

* * *

 

" _Three days! And against such massive odds! **That's**_ _the type of strategy a turian would use…" I'm gushing about her latest movie, an artistically styled presentation of gore and glory through some human battle long ago. It's not so different from many of my own selections, and I have no trouble understanding this film's themes. Her face is bemused, unused to this level of enthusiasm coming from me. "And what a way to finish things! With such honor! With such style!"_

_My rambling is cut short by her unabashed laughter._

_"What?!"_

_She shakes her head silently, smile on her face as she replies, "Nothing, Garrus. I just think I like you this way, is all."_

_I stare at her for a second, and a somewhat uncomfortable silence ensues. As it stretches, she begins to speak to fill it._

_"It's a true story, you know? It's based on the Battle of Thermopylae, infamous among every human strategist who ever planned a battle scenario. After all, if you want to be remembered, you go out with a bang." She smiles again, and my mandibles flare in return. On this point, no matter how our views may differ otherwise, we agree._

* * *

My eyes fall upon the bridge that holds the remnants of my recent life, my fallen comrades surrounded by a slick green coating of their combined and drying blood. Blue, green, yellow, red… at the finale, it all ends the same, doesn't it? Aria's misguided advice, about getting off this rock while I still could? Not going to happen. I refused to let this insult go unanswered. Here, to honor my fallen, I would take my revenge for their lives. As I had told Teandra so long ago, " _You can't change the past. You can only live for the future, try to make those sacrifices mean something."_ And I planned to. Oh, how I planned to.

 _So the mercenaries want me dead? Want their vengence?_ Then so be it. I would take as many of them down as I could before my own life was forfeit as payment. It was a cost I was more than willing to pay after the offering my team had given me. They had given everything for the people of Omega.

And I would make sure _they_ were remembered for it.


	15. Omega

" _I'm glad that you're here with me. Here, at the end of all things."_

Frodo- _Lord of the Rings_

**Chapter 15- Omega**

The shot echoed through the small space as I fired my HMWSR once again, taking down the last merc in the most recent wave of adversaries. I rested my rifle against the wall wearily, contemplating the last thirty-two hours of my life that had passed.

Even a battle hardened warrior such as myself can find it hard to maintain full awareness after such a long stint behind the scope. True battle is all about the waiting, about the mind-numbing inaction that fills the void between gunfire. If you remain vigilant longer than your enemy, you have the advantage; but before everything is said and done, it takes its toll. My mind and body were so tired; exhausted by the violence and the pain.

If you're good enough, you can allow the battle haze to take control for a while. To overcome that weakness and service the targets; to survive when your body doesn't want to go on anymore. The consequence, however, is that your mind is no longer distracted by the physical, and it begins to wander. And unfortunately for me, I'd always been better than average.

As I sat there, picking off wave after wave, it was almost as if Teandra were actually there matching me shot for shot just like she always had, keeping me company in my sleep deprived delirium.

"Can you hear the music I'm playing? That's _Warrior's Revenge,_ a song by a turian band called Controlled Chaos. Appropriate, isn't it?" The heavy beat, and the insane _golah_ track, served as a timing device for my shots for a while. I sang quietly, lost within my mind.

 

" _Kurat, Kurat, my spirit follows_

_The shot, the kill only makes me strong_

_Their deaths, they serve as salve for my sorrow_

_I'll be joining my lost ones on the wind before long."_

 

The gunship had proven less difficult than it should have been, a well placed shot doing damage to the engine, damage that I knew would take time to repair.

"Do you see those fools, Teandra? They can't get to me through the basement, I've blocked them. Even that stupid gunship isn't enough to destroy the Archangel. He was trained by his little Spectre, after all."

Somewhere, distantly, I was aware of my own spiraling sanity; of the hold I was steadily losing on reality as my brain began to shut down all faculties not associated with my immediate survival. But I didn't care, couldn't, not anymore.

"We've just got to survive a little longer, Teandra. Take out a few more for Jintah, and Canderous, and Jackson."

Her silence is disturbing, her normal quips absent. "You don't have to flatter me by letting me do all the killing. I know you can hit them too."

I sight down the scope again, remembering.

"Oh, that's right. You've joined the spirits now, haven't you, little Spectre? Well, I'll shoot a few for you too. And when they finally get me, you'll be proud, and I'll tell you what I should have told you long ago."

I shoot another one in the head, red splattering in tribute to the place where the bodies of my fallen had lain so soon before.

_Soon, Shepard. My luck and skill won't hold much longer._

It was then, at that moment, that I was sure my stability was truly gone. At the far end of the bridge, as if the spirit of my fallen team had taken her form, came the focal point of the last two years of my life. My savior, my teacher, my Teandra.

"Really, little Spectre? You can't even wait a few more minutes? You have to come and get me yourself?"

I fired a concussive round at her chest, just to toy with her. "If you're determined it's time, then maybe you should hurry up about it…"

The ghost fired on the mercenaries in front of her, and I wasn't sure if it was her rounds or mine that caused them to fall. "Taking my kills again, I see. Guess even death can't change everything."

And then, she was gone, disappearing beneath my perch.

 _My reaper has come, I go willingly into her embrace_. Her shots reverberated through the floor below, only adding to my sense of disorientation. Then, three sets of footsteps came up behind me.

_Three? Why three? Did Ashley insist on helping carry me home, not content with staying behind this time?_

Then, a new thought occurred to me. What if this wasn't some figment of my delirium? What if she really had returned, bent on saving me from myself? The words she spoke a moment later only added to this surreal idea.

"Archangel?" Why would she call me that? She didn't know that name, didn't know that man. _Was it truly her?_

I continued to face the bridge, putting up a single talon by way of stalling them. Taking out one last merc intent on invading our stronghold, I regained my composure, turning to face the trio and whatever fate awaited me.

As I looked at her, her face showed no recognition, and briefly I wondered if this was my punishment for my transgressions. To be forever in her presence, cursed with anonymity, as if that would be nearly enough for all that I had done.

Reaching up to run a tired talon over my fringe, I encountered my helmet, and snorted. Briefly, I felt like my old self, the overzealous innocent untainted by the cruelty of the universe. I removed it, and propped myself on a nearby table, saying the most obvious thing the situation portrayed, "Shepard. I thought you were dead."

Her face… it was beautiful. An image of grace and power and joy. She hesitated a single moment, _one_ moment of torture, before saying with complete disbelief, "Garrus?"

She began to lift her arms in semblance of an embrace, then stopped, glancing nervously at her associates. Then I watched her face as emotion overcame sense, and she threw herself at me just as she had the first night I'd comforted her, burying her head beneath my mandibles. I'd told her I'd always be there if she needed me. She'd promised she'd always be there when I needed her. And as I took her into my arms, buried once again in the achingly familiar scent of ylang-ylang, I had one thought.

 _She was right. She was always right_.

* * *


	16. Epilogue

**Epilogue- Sidonis**

"Tell me you didn't do it? Tell me you didn't kill an innocent child just to destroy her father?"

I await his answer. On this one question, this one simple inquiry, my entire future in regards to Garrus Vakarian hangs in the balance. The memories flash by almost instantaneously, triggered by his small nuances that are almost as familiar as my own.

He intakes a breath: _Running in formation, leading the group, when suddenly I hear, "Move up, Vakarian." My breathing is matched, then we both increase our pace, as the swampy ground beneath us absorbs all but the muted thud of our bare claws. "Sound off!" the instructor yells. In unison, our voices cry, "Kurat!" in a moment of brotherhood._

He wears her markings: _"Lantar Sidonis, meet Mishta Vakarian, resident jewel of our clan." She is the most beautiful thing I have ever seen, and yet ducks her head at the praise. I bow over her hand, wondering at the shy presence behind so much radiance. "Pleased to make your acquaintance…" I finally say, and am rewarded with a giggle. At that moment, I know that no matter what the cost, she will be mine one day._

His hand moves minutely: _Aboard ship, the cards snick as I watch my opponents. The four of us have a week's wages riding on this hand, and I'm confident until I see Garrus's trigger finger twitch. Without hesitation, I fold, a sentiment echoed by my two compatriots. Mandibles flaring evilly, Garrus reveals a flop hand, and Jerlah glares as he collects his credits. The scout is not likely to forgive his trickery any time soon._

His favorite band in the background: _"Vakarian," I say, "I need to talk to you." He sits up on his bunk, removing the earpiece that then fills the room with steady_ golah _rythms. Tapping his omni-tool, he turns off the music to give me his full attention. "What is it, brother?" he asks. Snickering slightly at his choice of words, I reply, "It's about Mishta. I know I'm supposed to ask Castis first, but…" He jumps up, embracing me, all the while saying, "If she says yes, I'll be the happiest man alive."_

His muscles flex: _I yell with the rest of the crowd, watching as Garrus and Jerlah circle each other. She's shorter, but uses it to her advantage as she constantly evades his grasp. After nine straight rounds, a draw is called, and no one is surprised when they both head in the direction of his quarters. "Lucky bastard, she doesn't give that level of respect to_ anyone _."_

His arms tense: _"You're almost there, my love. Just a little more!" But with the last gasp that should have delivered my son, the life goes from Mishta, a freak accident even the doctors later can't explain. I throw myself over her, only to feel strong talons pull me away so they can try to save her. The monitor is silent, doubly so, and nothing but her face registers until Garrus turns me to face him. "She's gone, Lantar. She's gone." I allow him to embrace me, crying into the only shoulder I ever would have dared to, the one time in my life I've shed a tear for any reason. And her brother is my keeper, the rock that keeps me grounded in sanity despite his own pain and loss._

The dull sheen of his armor: _His voice rings above the music and crowd, a reminder of times of happiness and sorrow, but I've never seen him like this. He's drunk, and hurting, talons clenched around a shot glass in agony. I'd seen him on the vids, ever flanking that human Spectre that everyone was talking about, as if he were her shadow. I know him. Hero worship is not in his arrogant nature; but it was always on his face when he looked at_ her _. I can't believe it's coincidence he's here after so many years, "Garrus Vakarian? No fucking way…"_

The images leave me at his refusal to deny the act; is all the proof I need. He wouldn't admit he'd killed that child… my little boy…

As I walk out the door, I contemplate Garm's previous offer. Garrus has become that which he abhors, is emulating Saren, who was nothing but a monster killing for his own ends. And I'm the only one who knows, who can stop this before it begins.

Ending his life is no longer a choice, but an obligation. Maybe I have to for Mishta, to make sure her spirit she would have me. Maybe instead it is a way of living with myself for not stopping this sooner.

_Or maybe, just maybe, as a way of making sure that one day I wouldn't have to any longer._


End file.
